Love Did Not Wait For Kate Beckett
by gleekymcgrey
Summary: "You turned me down. I had to move on, Kate." Castle said softly, as if his words were going to break her. And by the feeling of it, she might; because it was over. {Castle moves on and is a serious-as-a-heart-attack relationship with a woman that isn't Beckett. Kate, on the other hand, is still very madly in love} Spoilers at play. [ENTRY FOR CASTLE FICATHON 2013]
1. Chapter 1

_It ain't pretty_

_It ain't pretty when a heart breaks_

**_Lady Antebellum_**

{o}o}o}o}o}o}o}o}o}o}o}

A year had come and gone, and here she was, standing right outside the Hoover Building, taking in its wholeness, contemplating on the cases she and her new team had solved, the psychopaths they put into prison, and the families whom in their behalf, they sought rightful justice for their loved ones. It seemed to be only yesterday when she first landed in Washington, a for-good suitcase rolling behind her, and now it was time to pack her bags again and go home. The FBI was good for Agent Katherine Beckett; not for Kate. Hell, she missed being plain, old Kate. The only thrill she got was delivering closure to the victims robbed too early of their lives, and even that, wasn't enough. After all, nothing could ever be enough for as long as she was still in D.C. Who was she kidding? Her life was in New York. Hell, her heart was in New York; or wherever _he_ is, for that matter. She wished she had known that earlier; specifically that afternoon in the swings, when he got down on one knee and asked for her hand in marriage.

He made it clear that he wanted her to stay, and that was all it took for him to keep their relationship going. He told her he loved her, too many times, and she was too frightened to even take it in at the time. Because right now, standing all alone in a foreign city, dressed in a corporate suit and pencil skirt uniform, and surrounded by people she barely knew, she'd pay the world to hear those four words again.

Kate had never completely moved on. She wasn't unhappy, or anything. She loved her job, and could even say she could love her new co-workers if she stayed a little longer. It was just that in the back of her mind, he'll always be there, nagging at her for what they could have been. Richard Castle became the second most important person in her life without her knowing it.

And she knew, deep in her heart, he hadn't moved on either. Richard Castle lay low in the first few months of their breakup. He stopped making headlines, stopped making book signings and didn't make it to Manhattan's Top Ten bachelors. The latest Nikki Heat novel was the only thing that reminded her of his existence, and it crushed her heart when the acknowledgement on the second page only read 'Farewell'. Then that was it. Nikki Heat was given a nice, happy closure; a life with Jameson Rook, a toddler in her arms—a happily ever after kind of ending—all the things they could have been.

Kate couldn't help but let the constant pang in her chest eat away at her. So she gulped the contents of her wine glass.

"Agent Beckett, I knew you'd be here," a familiar voice pulled her out of her thoughts, realizing she had been alone for too long outside of her farewell party.

"Agent Krauss," she addressed out of respect. Thomas Krauss hasn't always been her type of coffee. He managed to pull her strings to the point of snapping, and he was probably glad to finally have her out of the office. Thomas was the typical big and tough agent, with a towering height of 6'4'', clean cut brown hair and sapphire blue eyes—not at all hard to look at. In more ways than one, he reminded her of Castle.

"Please, call me Tom," his mouth broke into a charmer smile.

Kate smiled half-heartedly. _Now he's flirting?_ "Agent Krauss," she repeated.

"Look, I'm sorry if I gave you a hard time, Kate." Kate turned to him at the mention of her name, her lips pursed together and her eyebrows furrowed. "Fine, Agent Beckett—I'm sorry I gave you a hard time. I just have these issues with new people. Don't take it personally, though. Personally…"he trailed off, holding out his finger in the air "…I think you're pretty. _Cute_."

"Oh, please. What is it that you need?" Kate caught him off-guard. Even from a distance, she could smell the alcohol reeking out of his breath.

"I need you to write me a recommendation letter,"

"For what?" To be honest, she didn't expect that. It didn't make sense how someone as highly praised as Thomas Krauss would want out of his job. But then again, he was a little out of his mind.

"For a girlfriend," he stared on. The guy is drunk in midday. Kate felt sorry for his liver. "Please, Agent?"

"Sober up, Krauss." She dropped on him one last time before returning to the party.

The small party ended in no less than an hour later, and once everybody had uttered their goodbye speeches, and gave Kate their warm, goodbye hugs, she was officially gone. She caught a sight of two other agents dragging Thomas Krauss on his side to his car. That guy was _impossible_.

She surrendered the keys of her FBI-issue SUV, badge and gun, and took a cab back to her apartment. Kate already packed her suitcase two nights ago, and sent the rest of her boxes to New York the day before. All that was left to do was secure her boarding pass and fly back home.

That is, if she still had a _home_ to go to.

* * *

**-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

Castle drove his black Porsche through the busy Manhattan streets, on his way to completing his Saturday routine. Alexis got her driver's license, and he thought she earned the red Ferrari he used to own. In the past seven months, he had been unexpectedly better. No. _Better_ than better, if that was any possible. He never thought he could move past the bitter breakup with his muse so quickly. She never called, and so did he; he stopped going to the precinct and settled down with late night poker games with the boys and short conversations with Lanie outside of work. Altogether, he turned away to all the things that kept him from moving on from Kate. And to his surprise, it worked!

Seven months later, he was back to his old self, and he thought of his relationship with Kate as the northern star that brought him closer to the real thing. Or so he _thinks_ it's the real thing.

When he decided to put an end to the Nikki Heat Series, he never thought he would want to write again. But then he proved himself wrong, when he met the inspiration for his new character _Samantha Winters—_the kickass lawyer who sidelines as a professor at Harvard and an amateur crime novelist. In exchange for her inspiration for the character, Castle agreed to show her the ropes in the mystery world. And there they were, exchanging kisses in the morning, checking on each other every other time, him bringing her flowers for a promotion, and then going back to his flat for a nice dinner.

He smiled at the thought.

Castle spotted the familiar building and parked in the curb. He grabbed the bouquet of white roses from the back seat, and went his way inside the law office.

"Good day, Mr. Castle," said Aaron the day shift security guard. Some were stoic towards her, but not good ole' Aaron Lovett.

"Good day back, Aaron." He gave a wide grin, and waited in the lobby.

He glanced at his watch. He had called her and she said she was just about to leave her office and would meet him in the lobby. In no less than a moment later, the elevator door opened, and a herd of people exchanging smiles and laughter rushed out. Then out of the similarly dressed people, he spotted her, a wide smile plastered on her mouth. His heart swelled at her happiness. Because hell, he knew how hard the woman worked, and totally deserved the promotion. She spotted him from afar, and waved at him.

She had the face of a goddess and a heart of an angel.

He waved back, and watched as Stefanie Patrick inched closer, closer, and closer, then into his arms, his smile only getting bigger as she pressed her lips against his.

"I got the job, Rick!"


	2. Chapter 2

** A/N**: Wow! Thanks a lot to all those people who followed and reviewed this story. You guys are amazing. Made my day.

As with the reviews, ya'll got me thinking. So here's my general response: Castle and Beckett will always be Caskett and not having them together is just wrong, on so many levels. But here's the thing, Beckett ain't getting her man any sooner. We've seen Castle trying to get Kate to love him in the show, so this will be a bit of the opposite of that.

Anyways, in the first three or four chapters, we'll play around with everybody's relationships with Castle's new girlfriend first before we get into the specifics of the plot.

Again, thank you for your support!

**CHAPTER TWO**

The moment the plane landed, she searched for the familiar face in the sea of people waiting on other people. Then a cardboard held in the air caught her attention.

"**OVER HERE KATE BECKETT**"—the words said in bold, black print. _Lanie. _The woman had a sense of humor. She broke into a giggle and went her way to the sign. The Lanie materialized out of the crowd and put the sign down and rushed to her friend. Kate's one hand let go of her suitcase and braced herself for the hug of her life.

"Aww, Lanie, I missed you so much!" Kate mumbled while enveloped in her best friend's arms. Lanie pat her shoulder and pulled away.

"Wow, it's been a year, huh? Damn, girl. You better be staying this time."

Kate smiled back. "I think I am,"

"Good. Now let's get out of here,"

They both went to Lanie's car, parked on the other side of the airport. Kate was beyond grateful she could stay at her friend's apartment while she looked for a new one. She sold her apartment to some young couple, a month after she moved to D.C. It was about time that place had a bright and shiny owner. They swiftly navigated the traffic, exchanging news at the red lights, mostly about how it was like to be working with the federal force, and Kate asking how the precinct had been since she left.

Well they both knew what Kate wanted to know.

It was how _Castle_ had been since she left. Since he stopped making his way to the headlines, she didn't have the slightest idea how he was doing.

They arrived at Lanie's building, and made their way to her floor. Since she lived alone, her apartment was a good for one loft, with a small kitchen, a small living room and a bathroom, adorned with furniture that spoke so much of the M.E. Books of all sorts on one shelf by the television, and her DVD collection on the other, a long cerulean couch and a round coffee table at the center, seated atop of a black carpet.

"I swear Lanie, it will just for a few days," Kate turned to face her friend as she set her suitcase aside.

"Oh please. For all I care, you can stay here for as long as you need," Lanie replied from the bedroom, where she and her friend would be sharing.

"So Lanie, how's Castle doing?" Beckett followed her to the room, and stood by the door, her arms crossed around her waist.

Lanie froze. Of course she didn't know. She turned her back on Beckett and went on fixing the spread. Castle had been extraordinarily fine, even after their relationship had ended. Everyone had expected him to break, to never show himself to the world again and all that stuff, but he moved on—too easily, in fact. And yet there stood Katherine Beckett, the woman who put countless men to prison, brave, and a fighter in her own way, still broken-hearted over Richard Castle, the man who seemed to have the slightest chance of winning her over.

No, Lanie couldn't blame Castle. He had to move on.

"Oh, Castle's doing _great_."—so she stopped at that. Castle's relationships was never her story tell, anyway. "He has this book signing tomorrow at Barnes and Noble. He has this new series I haven't checked out yet, so,"

Kate nodded. "Oh. That's nice," she said in a hollow voice. He was doing great, been writing a new book, and what else? He could be dating someone else. _He couldn't already be dating, could he?_

Why not, Kate? He's a charismatic millionaire who had a long history of dating women. And it's been twelve months. So, why not?

"Has he dated anyone since…" she found herself holding her breath as soon as the words came out. Lanie looked up, only to look away and straighten the last wrinkle on the bed. That was all it took to know she was wrong in so many ways. How could she expect him to be the same man who had been following her around? After what had happened, there had to be some changes—_changes_, that didn't involve her. Kate realized how selfish she had been to be thinking he was going to wait.

"He's chasing bimbos again? I told you that wasn't just a passing thing," Kate chuckled, a part of her hoping she was right.

"I'm sorry, girl. This one's _serious_ as a heart attack."

"Oh," the word forced through her throat. "…I've never heard of it on the news,"

Lanie narrowed her eyes. "Where ya' been getting news, girl? His website?" she chuckled. "Well, that's why we think this is serious. He'd never came out in the open with Stefanie yet,"

"_Stefanie_,"

"Do you really want to know, Kate Beckett?" she asked; arms on her side.

Kate let out a small laugh, and walked away. Nobody had to know she still had feelings for Castle. She could keep the raging need for him inside her—for as long as it takes. If he had moved on, maybe it was time she did, too. Kate found herself standing by the window of Lanie's living room, one hand across her waist, and the other clutching her mother's ring around her neck.

_"You've been through worse, Kate,_"—she convinced herself_. "You'll make it through,"_

**-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

Stefanie came out of the bedroom, wearing a pair of tank top and Hello Kitty pajamas, and walked to the living room in her fluffy dolphin-head slippers. Wearing heels all day sure had its cons—sore feet, numb toes, you name it.

"…and they still couldn't believe I got the job. Those pricks didn't know what hit them," He caught the last sentence of her long rant about how her co-workers protested the promotion. Castle had been too busy dipping strawberries into melted chocolate then putting them back to the freezer again. "…but others were really happy for me. Damn, I can't believe I'm finally working my way up the pyramid. One day, I'll be _District Attorney_,"

He appeared from the corner and crashed with her on his couch. "I know you will,"

Stefanie Patrick made a name for herself when she graduated a year early from Harvard and topped the Bar exams, making her the youngest woman to make it to Tollen & Tollen Law Firm—every lawyer's dream team. She was crazy smart, and at the same time incredibly sweet. Not at all hard to look at, too. She made her way through Law School by modeling and kept her model body around. Stefanie had big and round brown eyes, and lips almost always curved into a warm smile. She had brown hair—_smelled of lavender_—she most of the time kept in a neat, corporate bun. But nights like these spent in his loft, she let her silky locks down, and he loved the way it fanned out of his side of the bed when she sleeps.

"…and I'm on my ninth chapter already," she winked, and threw her arms around Castle. She loved the way he smelled. It wasn't his cologne, or the smell of car seat sticking to his shirt. It was that distinct Rick Castle aroma.

"Wow, that's amazing. You learn fast, hmm?"

"You're a great teacher," she whispered softly, and planted a soft smack on his lips. "About tomorrow. I don't think I'll be able to make it to the signing. We have all these paperwork. I'm sorry,"

"It's fine. You'll end up waiting on me for hours, anyway. Enjoy your paperwork, though. I'll see you at the after party, then?"

"Of course. So, what are we watching tonight?"

"The Bourne Legacy," he said in a deep, manly man voice. Stefanie laughed, unconvinced. "What? I can be Jason Bourne, for all you know,"

She stood, went over to Castle's collection and pulled out The Bourne Legacy from the top shelf. It was one thing about Stefanie that Castle loved. She didn't mind going to hiking trips with him, playing the PS3 with him, or better yet sparring with him on Saturdays at the gym. She was tough, and could pretty much take care of herself. He couldn't have been so right in choosing her as his new muse. _New muse_. That sounded wrong, in so many levels.

_Muse…_

That rang a bell somewhere. _Oh. Kate._

Immediately, a part of him sank. It was a shame how they ended things. He had risked his all when he proposed, only to be turned down for a job. Although, Castle tried not to think too hard of the reason, and instead thought of reasons of more value to him, like she wasn't ready, or she didn't think it was going to work. _Because it hurt less_. Somewhere in him still felt the pain, though over time, it had been reduced to a single prick every time her name came up, and the pang didn't last long; buried under the recent, happier memories.

"Settle down, writer boy." Stefanie's voice broke through his thoughts, and he watched as she collapsed on the couch with him, huddled close against the breadth of his chest. _Lavender._ That was a smell he can never get tired of. He planted a small kiss on her head, and wrapped his other arm around her.

"I _love_ you, Stef,"

"I love you too, Rick,"—she replied without a moment's hesitation, her eyes fixated on the scenes playing before them. And it sent the butterflies in his stomach to a gleeful dance for the hundredth time.

**-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

I know this isn't much, but bear with me. In the next chapter we'll get to see how Castle and Stefanie came to be. Ride along, okay? :)

Updates maybe once a day or every two days at maximum.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Thank you for the support, guys. It means a lot to me. And to those who followed this story, you made me down right happy.

So here goes Chapter 3, a slightly longer chapter than the others. Chapter 4 is going to be all about Castle and Stefanie's relationship. I thought we can do a little exploring on this girl. Even I, don't trust her. JK. Or not. Anyways, enjoy! Have a nice day.

**{CHAPTER THREE}**

Well the night had come and gone, and she'd been drifting to and back into sleep, tossing and turning slowly, careful not to wake Lanie who seemed buried deep in her slumber. Kate exhaled heavily, his hands resting on her flat stomach. For more times than one, she went to the kitchen and gulped a glass of water, then she settled on the couch and went channel surfing. _Nothing but cheesy teenage movies on the telly_, so she goes back to bed, then she'd feel thirsty again, and the cycle went on and on. Kate glanced at the wall clock: 5:47. It was freaking morning and she didn't even get as much as a nap. So instead of trying to get some much needed sleep, she changed into a pair of yoga pants and dry-fit shirt and put on her running shoes. Central Park is three blocks away. Maybe she just needed to get in touch with Mother Nature and then she'd be rewarded with rest.

Kate scribbled a note on Lanie's sticky pad and put it on the refrigerator door.

**_Went jogging. I'll be back soon._**

**_Kate_**

Wow, it had been a while since she left a note for someone, mainly because there hadn't been anyone to leave notes to. Then she stuck two dollars she'd need for a cup of coffee in her pants' garter then clipped her iPod shuffle on her shirt and headed for the busy city.

Running had always been a great past time for her. Things were a lot…_clearer._

Maybe it was her neurons working extra for the physical activity, or the solitude in the vast park, she wasn't sure. She picked up her pace, hopping off of the buttress roots of trees, only slowing down when coming across other people. Damn, how could everything remind her of Castle? Hell, even her morning jog will never feel the same. He didn't like waking up early for a run, so most of the time, she jogged alone, which was always worth it because that meant coming home to his loft with perfectly made breakfast. She missed that. In fact, she missed everything about their dysfunctional relationship. She doubted it at the time, but right now, she realized that a little dysfunctional was all that she wanted.

A half an hour later, she reached the coffee stall, and stood in line for her coffee. By the time she had ordered her good old Grande skim latte, two pumps sugar free vanilla coffee, she realized the bills she had pitted against the garter had somehow fallen off along the way.

"Oh my God, I'm sorry. I think my bill fell off," she looked up to the big man behind the counter. Well, he didn't seem happy. _At all_. What was he even supposed to do with her customized coffee, anyway? "I am so sorry. Can you hold on to that, though? I live close, and I'll be back, I promise,"

"Well go ahead, ma'am," big guy wasn't so bad, it turned out.

"Hey, don't bother," a woman standing next in line, as tall as her, with similar brown hair, green eyes, and sweat-soaked dry fit shirt, approached her. "I'm sure you don't live that close,"—well, she was right. But Kate couldn't put her anywhere in her memory.

"No, it's alright."

"Can't a stranger help out another stranger every once in a while?" the woman replied with a persistent smile. Kate knew she wasn't going to win this argument. Not with the convincing gestures.

"Fine," Kate gave in, "But please give me your name so I can repay you in any way,"

The woman had already given the cashier her dollar, took the coffee and nudged it lightly to Kate's hand. "If that's the case, I'm not giving you my name. Just a thank you will probably do,"

Kate hesitated. After years of being a cop, she was too used in dealing psychopaths and liars, she almost forgot there were nice, normal people left in the world. "Thank you. I'll see you around, then,"

"Yeah, see you around," she replied, and waved as Kate left for the streets.

Two blocks down, she came across a bookstore. And there he was, or his life-sized stand-up picture, with words 'Book signing today' written in bold print over his head. Richard Castle. "You really are ruggedly handsome,"—she whispered to herself.

Then a thought hit her. Not a very good thought, but a thought nonetheless.

**-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

Castle woke up to the smell of coffee filling his nostrils. He opened his eyes, got off the bed to follow the smell, and found himself striding towards his kitchen island, still groggy, yet definitely not one to miss the pancakes Stefanie was preparing. She had his back on her, flipping their breakfast and stacking them into one of his porcelain plates. Stefanie was wearing one of her plain white shirts, hair tied in a neat ponytail. Her running apparel was in the bathroom sink, soaked from her morning run. She must have heard the shuffle of Castle's feet on the hardwood floor when she turned, and there was nothing like a pair of green eyes and wide lips pursed into a smile for a 'good morning'.

"Good morning, writer man. Sit down. Big day today," she greeted, and turned away to add the last pancake to the stack.

"I should have made breakfast. It's your first day as boss, right?"

"I'm still pretty hyped about it, but yes," she nodded, and set the plate in front of him. "So, maple syrup or chocolate?"

"Maple all the way," he pointed to the second bottle, "Are you sure you're not going to make it to the signing? It will be nice to see a little _Samantha Winters_ on the launching,"

"I'll be at the party tonight, anyway. This paperwork is due on Friday and my team hasn't started yet. Attorney Markaway? He doesn't like late paperwork," She reasoned out. Maybe it's the lawyer thing, but she looked cute when she tries to elaborate on things. He couldn't imagine watching her at the courthouse. Any man could easily melt in her presence. Castle grinned. "What?"

"What. What?" he shot back, and tried to master a straight face.

Over the past three months, the two of them had gotten comfortable living back and forth each other's lofts. Castle got used to the early morning kisses, and making coffee, teasing, and just merely being there. He had never gotten lonely since, thanks to this wonderful woman who seemed to be sent from above.

**_A year ago…_**

_She'd made up her mind. She was going to take the job in D.C., and it was now all up to him to decide their fate. So she pressed the button on the elevator, and rang him up. Their conversation was short, cold, hell, even distant. He sounded different. He was still mad. The thought made Beckett squirm. He was too selfish to even ask of her to stay. No. He didn't actually ask her to stay, but it sure felt like it._

_Beckett gripped her steering wheel. Hard. _

_She saw it coming. __**This**__. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew this whole dance of theirs had to end somehow. She watched him from a distance. Kids came and went on the other swings. In more times than one, he offered to push the swing for the children, laughing and pushing, a wide smile on his face. _

_This brought a smile on Kate's face. It was still refreshing, even after years of watching him with Alexis, to watch Castle take on his fatherly side. The children went home with their parents, so Kate took it as her cue to close in on him. He sat all alone now, pain etched on his face. She sat on the other swing in an opposite direction, so she was directly looking at him._

_Everything that came before he got down on one knee became a big blur. But those words will forever be planted in her mind. "Will you marry me?" He asked, holding out a diamond ring in front of her._

_"Castle…"_

Kate tripped down into memory lane as she held on to Castle's latest novel, standing in line among women that were too excited to meet the author. She diverted her attention somewhere else. What happened next in the swings was too painful to relive; at least for her.

Lanie didn't know she was coming to this whole author-thing of his, and she probably would have stopped Kate. She had no reason to be there. Hell, she didn't even know what to say once she gets to him. Well, certainly, she wasn't supposed to pour her heart out to him. Not when he's this happy, watching the way his eyes lit up when he smiles for the camera. Sure, she's been in this position before. Twice, when she was just another fan, and not so long ago when he got mad at her. He's never been this bright, and Kate started to realize this _new _relationship of his must be really doing him good.

It was supposed to be Kate that should make him this happy. She was supposed to be waiting somewhere else in the bookstore, waiting until he finished, because they didn't have any cases to solve at the precinct.

All in all, she had been falling in line for an hour and a half, and she was still torn between running away and seeing him. Maybe all she needed was closure. If she could only see the happiness drawn in his blue eyes, maybe she'll feel better. Maybe, she could start being happy for him.

Her heart raced as the neared the end of the line—_him_. One minute later, and she was standing right in front of him. She handed him the book, which he absentmindedly took.

"Thank you for dropping by. To whom will I…" then he looked up. His face changed from cheerful to completely _different. _The grin on his face quickly faded, as if he had just seen a ghost. She might as well be, after a year of not calling and keeping in touch. _Now that's regret number two. _

"Just make it out to Kate," she said softly, and her words were as clear as that from a headphone, despite the enthusiastic crowd's noise. Their eyes locked for a moment, taking in each other's presence. He didn't know what to do next, or better yet, what to say. So he wrote on the first page: _To Kate_. Oh the many words he could add to that phrase. But instead he wrote last: _Thank you_, just like what he'd written to the others. He handed the book, and she took it back.

"Kate," he hadn't said or thought about her name in a long time that it started to feel foreign in his own lips. She saw that Castle put an end to the flashy lifestyle, with his white shirt and jeans the old Richard Castle would never wear to a book signing. He wasn't smiling, but it was clear he wasn't upset anymore.

"Thanks, _Rick_, congratulations on the new…_novel_," she said before she was shoved aside by a hysteric fan. Castle's eyes followed her until the same girl screamed in excitement in seeing him. And just like that, she was gone, leaving Castle to wonder if that really happened.

He froze for a moment. _Kate. Kate Beckett._ The maddening, challenging, frustrating Katherine Beckett. Those green eyes of hers, long, brown locks he knew just how soft, her voice, everything. He looked to the line before him—still a hundred people, or more. Kate had already rushed to the exit, clutching his book tight against her chest.

No, she certainly didn't feel any better.

Maybe this wasn't a very good idea, after all.


	4. Chapter 4

**{CHAPTER FOUR}**

There was no doubt. _Kate Beckett_ was the best thing that ever happened to him.

He had loved her more than he ever loved any woman before , and he'd always believed she was his three-and-done girl. But then she goes off to another city with a new job, leaving him hanging in the air. It's been a week, and he still didn't have the strength to face the world, ever so busy with hassle and bustle, and drank away the memories of that afternoon. It was still there—the constant pang in his chest.

For days, he waited for her to call. He got so close to dialing her number, only to be reminded of why he was miserable. He was miserable because she turned him down, and that was enough for him to toss his phone to the other side of the bed. She was probably busy in Washington, anyway—catching bad guys, kicking ass, impressing other agents.

Castle's eyes closed in their own accord, his free hand clutching the rock that was supposed to be sitting on Kate's finger. No, he's not going to let this one go. Somewhere inside him insisted that it should be worn around Kate's finger and hers alone.

"Darling, you did great. There was nothing you could have done to change her mind. It wasn't you, Richard." His mother tried to reassure her too many times. "You did nothing wrong, kiddo. Don't punish yourself," and she was right. He was right to be mad when he found out about the boarding pass, and he could have sworn they would have gotten through that if they only gave it time.

But maybe it wasn't the most appropriate of times to ask her hand for marriage. He knew she wasn't so ready. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knew she had doubts, and over the past few weeks he tried to make her see that he wanted her, possibly even more than she wanted him. And so he risked it, knelt down on one knee, and held out the ring in front of her. He hadn't been thinking. _He just wanted her_. Castle just wanted to make sure she was going to be his and his alone. It was selfish, and he knew that, but he didn't regret it. He loved her, and he couldn't imagine spending the rest of his life with anybody else.

He donned another glass of vodka, and his whole loft smelled of it from the week's alcohol surplus. It wasn't until Alexis barged into the door a month later when he realized he deserved better.

"You know what, dad? In case you don't realize this, Beckett is starting a new life without _you_. Do you think it's time for you to do the same?"—she was furious. She stood tall in front of him in the couch, blocking his sight of the television, arms crossed around her waist. Castle looked up, worry etched on her daughter's face. All at once, he felt guilt wash over him for being such a lousy job at being a father. Alexis shouldn't be worrying about him. It should well be the other way around.

It was that moment when he started to realize all the things he'd been missing. He didn't even know how his daughter was doing in school, he hadn't written so much as a chapter in the last Heat book, he stopped eating healthy with all the pizza he'd been settling for the past month, and for what? For a breakup? He was no school boy. He knew he could do better. After all, his daughter was right. Kate Beckett is starting a new life without him, and it was about time for him to do the same.

"I know you love her very much, dad,"—Alexis strode to his side and sat on his lap, enduring the reek of alcohol off of Castle's breath and wrapped him in a warm embrace.

"How did you get so mature, Alexis?"

"I had to raise my dad, that's why," she joked, and Castle chuckled. The closest thing to a laugh he had for a long time. "Be better, dad. I've got to go back to campus,"

"You take care, kiddo,"

Castle picked up the little pieces of him, one by one, first things first. And by first, he meant sleep, because he barely got any since they broke it off. A little shaving cream for his growing beard the next day, a nice cleanup in his loft here and there, tossed the beer bottles out in the trash the next, and stepped out of his building for fresh air. A little drinks with Ryan and Esposito in the weekend, just to let them know their bromance didn't end with his relationship with Beckett, and gave Lanie tickets for her favorite band on her birthday. A little over time, it started to get better for him.

Probably the hardest was finishing the last of his Heat Series. A part of him despised Nikki, probably because the character was solely based on Kate, but then he realized he was bring ridiculous, and gave Nikki Heat and Jameson Rook the closure they deserved. At least alternate egos got what they could have had. He poured his heart out into writing the last chapter, which was all but fluff and happy endings.

Writing the acknowledgement had been a big issue. It came from 'Always,' to a simple 'To KB', and to his last resort, 'Farewell'. And that was it, the last thing that reminded him of Kate Beckett. Once he submitted the manuscript to Gina, he started feeling a lot fresher. Not that he stopped thinking about her—or yet, loving her.

Somewhere along the way, in between his daily run and walking back to his loft, he met a remarkable woman, and he had no idea how she had made him forget about the pain and misery that had been nagging at him for the past two months. He left his loft in the best weather conditions and ran five blocks down, trying to lay off the calories from his pizza habit, only to be rained down in the middle of the street. There weren't any canopies to protect himself from the pouring rain, and the restaurants wouldn't appreciate him dripping over their floors. Then suddenly, he wasn't touched by rain anymore, he looked up, and an umbrella was over his head.

"It's going to rain all day,"

He looked over his side, "Wha-"Damn those eyes. The same hue of green, the same roundness, the same dreamy feel. Who was this woman anyway? Her hair was dripping, and her boots soaked, yet she still shared her small umbrella with him.

"You have until the next block with this umbrella,"—she smiled, and walked ever so briskly and he had to keep up. They reached the end of the block, where finally, a canopy awaited.

"Hey, thank you,"—Castle mumbled. It was when they were standing next to each other that Castle had the time to really look at her. Golden brown hair, fitting white shirt underneath blue coat and skinny jeans, knee high boots. He couldn't help but think of Kate.

"No problem. I was heading this way anyway,"

Castle had to repay her somehow. "Would you like to take a cab back to my place? You can warm up there,"

"Actually, I live upstairs, and since you offered first, how would you like to warm up inside?" she chuckled, as she took off her dripping wet coat. "My brother sent me these coffee beans. I haven't tried them yet,"

He was taken aback by her openness and familiarity. His mouth stretched into a grin, "How do you know I'm not going to kill you once we're upstairs?"

"You may be a mystery writer but certainty not a psychopath," she shot back.

"Wow, I don't take you as the crime kind of girl," he said, and she took it as her cue to open the main door as he followed closely behind and went to the elevator leading to her floor. "I take you more as a Nicholas Sparks kind,"

"What, because I'm a girl?" she looked over her side, and glared.

Castle held out both hands in the air, mimicking arrest. "Sorry, just a first impression,"

She laughed. "Chill. Actually, I'm a crime kind of girl. I'm a lawyer,"

"Wow, alright." And for once in his life, he was right about pretty girls going to Law School. Once, he had asked Kate why she became a cop. Well she got close, having taken Pre Law and all. And then her mother's death…_no, stop it Castle. Stop thinking of Kate. _

The elevator door opened and they rounded the corner for her apartment.

"If it isn't much trouble, can you sign my books? I have the complete series," she shyly asked, and pushed her door open. Lawyers make a good living, and it was evident in her place. It was much like his loft, stylish, modern, and minimalistic. Peach walls, white and red furnishing, and soft lighting. A fireplace sat on the corner, and she was already lighting it up. The temperature was down a notch, leaving them freezing in their wake.

"Of course,"

"Yay!" she exclaimed. "I think I have my brother's clothes in here, just wait a second so you can change,"

"Thank you," he said, "You know I didn't catch your name,"

"That's because I didn't tell you," she answered from her bedroom, and she resurfaced some time later, holding out a pair of clean shirt and cargo shorts for him. "I'm Stefanie Patrick,"

"Well, Stefanie Patrick, you're probably the kindest person I've met." He said as he took the clothes.

"Nonsense. Well, Richard, the bathroom is over there."

"Rick's fine,"—he replied, and smiled. It had been a while since he genuinely did so. He helped himself in Stefanie's bath and changed into dry clothes. Thank goodness his boxers weren't too soaked or else it would be such a bad timing. By the time he got out, the aroma of brewing coffee was already in the air. Cinnamon buns were in the counter, and just in time she came out of her bedroom, wearing a gray shirt and capris pants, her hair combed in place.

She was _beautiful_. And yes, Castle said that aloud, and it was far too late to pretend he had said something else.

"Thank you?" she mumbled, went over to her bookshelf and retrieved her Richard Castle collection. "I have the Derrick Storm and Nikki Heat series, might I add," she proudly hollered.

He gasped. "Wow, that's something,"

"What do you say? I'm a fan," she gave him a marker and laid his books on the kitchen island. "Hope that's not much of a hassle,"

"Well this is for the umbrella, the coffee, and the cinnamon buns," he grinned her way and started with _Heat Rises_ and worked his way down. For that moment, he realized how lighter he felt. Some people just had that effect on him. But then he couldn't help but think of Beckett, _again. _He couldn't help but compare the two, and he knew that both women didn't deserve that. But days went, and dinner reservations were made here and there, movie marathons on her day off, then it all came down to introducing her to Alexis and his mother. And a time came, he realized he wasn't thinking much of Kate anymore. His attention was on the woman that had been his constant company.

At first, as he had expected, they were skeptical of his motives. That the poor girl didn't deserve being his rebound relationship and that if he was dating Stefanie as his coping mechanism, he should blow it off while it's early. At some point, he considered their ideas. But one more moment spent with her, and he knew for certain he wasn't doing this to move on. She helped him forget without Castle trying so hard.

"Are you still shadowing the detective from NYPD?" She once brought up on one of their dates. He knew she had been itching to ask. He just smiled and shook his head. "Done enough research?"

"Actually, we _were_ in a relationship," He said without having to push himself down to a pool of memories in the precinct. "…and she doesn't work for NYPD anymore,"

Stefanie's smile faded into a sympathetic smile. "Oh, I'm sorry. She went for the Federal force, I guess?"

He nodded. "Happens a lot?"

"Yeah, absolutely," she said, while picking on the olives on her plate. "And if she was as good as Nikki Heat, it's no doubt, really. I think we actually met. Once. I had a client who was a suspect. She was _really_ good,"

"Better," he countered. He couldn't help but still be proud of Kate. By this time, he was already able to say her name without having his heart crushed under his feet. That's when he knew he was getting past their bitter goodbye.

"Are you better? Right now, I mean,"

"So much," he replied in a confident voice, a wide grin flashed on Stefanie's way.

Months later, it became evident in his eyes that Stefanie made him happy, and so Alexis and Martha let him be. It was about time to finally see him move on with his life, anyway.

"I love you," she said for the first time, around in the five months of them being together. The words sent butterflies in his stomach. Her face was pressed against his chest, her arms swung around his neck as they swayed in the moonlight. The music seemed to fade, and that were was only him and Stefanie, that he didn't even have to think when he said it back.

"_I love you_," and she held on to him tighter, just as he wrapped her arms tighter around her waist.

It just felt right.

**-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

Anti-climactic? Liking Stefanie a lot better?

This is the last of the 'introductory' chapters, guys. In the next chapter, we'll try ad dive into the specifics. Good old crime fighting, angst, jealousy and twists that I hope you won't guess.

Thank you so much for all who reviewed, favorited and followed! Made my day.

More reviews, please. :) They are really the best motivation. Ever.


	5. Chapter 5

For hours she had been circling available spaces on the papers dating from that morning's up until the last week. To her worst of luck, all the good ones were already reserved, and the others were either in the bad side of the city, or ridiculously expensive. Kate's feet hang on the floor, crossed on top of the other, a red marker on one hand, and the other holding the paper at a readable view. She knew she wasn't the brightest person when she showed up at the signing. For all she knew, she had just sent the wrong message. Or better yet, the right message, but at the most unfortunate time. Kate got what she wanted, that is, to see Castle happy.

Then why did it still like they still belonged together? Kate mentally slapped herself for being selfish. She had been selfish when she turned down true love for a job. She had been selfish when she didn't call, when he clearly wanted to try things out even after they broke it off. She had been selfish when she returned to New York, thinking Castle was waiting for her. She had been selfish for showing up at Barnes and Nobles, hoping it would knock sense into him and maybe, just a flicker of a maybe, he'll look at her the same way he did before?

And damn, did she miss those eyes. His eyes. She missed the way she melted with one look from him. She missed the way her knees tremble at his touch.

"...so, Javi called you yet?"—she caught the last of Lanie's sentence, but didn't flinch until her friend nudged her on her shoulder. "Girl, what's up?"

Kate jumped. "Dear God, Lanie. I didn't know you were there,"

"Yeah, you were staring pretty hard at those apartments. I told you not to rush it. You're very welcome here," Lanie said, and then Kate moved over so Lanie could settle beside her. "Castle called. He asked about…"

"Why do I need to call Espo, again? I didn't catch the beginning of it."

"Kate Beckett, I don't know what goes in your head, but I might know what goes in there," she lifted a finger and lightly tapped on the side of Kate's chest where her heart was.

"Lanie," she sighed. "I went to his book signing today," Kate said, not expecting some surprised response from Lanie. That's probably why Castle called anyway.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I don't know, Lanie. I just thought that if I could see him, I could maybe, pick up the pieces. I thought I'd see clearer once I'm right in front of him. Maybe I'll know what I really want"

"And you want him," Lanie deduced. "You're having regrets,"

The hell she was having regrets. This time, they could be already happily hitched, possibly with a newborn baby in their midst. She could have gotten what the inner little girl in her would have called a happy ending.

She looked away, and opened her mouth to let the words go, only to be interrupted by the buzz and ring of her phone. Captain Gates. Wait, what?

"It's Gates, I better take this,"

"Don't think you've been saved by the bell," Lanie replied as Kate swiped the screen and held her device to her ear. "…again,"

"What can I do for you, sir?"

"Are you willing to go back to the precinct, Kate?"

"Of course, sir. But I…"

"Great, be here immediately. Detective Ryan will e-mail you the directions. And as I've heard, you are currently living with our Medical Examiner, and we need her ASAP."

Kate's eyes widened in surprise. Wow, nothing like Iron Gates to ask somebody to go back to a job. She had never put a lot of thought into going back any sooner. She thought she could settle down in the city first before going back to work. But, as they all knew, _you've got to do what the Captain tells you to do. _

"Guessing it wasn't a girl talk?"

"No, actually, she's hiring me back,"—a smile crept to her face without her knowing. Just how she missed the rush of it all. Her phone let out a small beep, and she checked to see Ryan's GPS directions. Ryan and Esposito. She was going to work with her boys again. "Come on Lanie, we have to go to the scene,"

It was Lanie's turn to sigh, glancing at her wrist watch. "Well, isn't this a pleasant evening,"

**-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

For a brief moment, everything felt as if nothing ever happened. The screech of the fire trucks and ambulance cars hollering close by, the sea of uniforms scattered in a five hundred feet radius, crime scene tape around the victim. Same old, same old. She never thought how she had missed this kind of relief. Not that dead bodies and murders were of a relief to her. Maybe it was the familiarity of it. After all, this had been her home for so long; she didn't know what to do without it anymore. Lanie rushed out first, tagging along her preliminary tests kit. Then she exited the cab last, a pen and notepad in hand.

Kate nodded on the officers she passed by, and smiled on the others who pointed on her homecoming with simple greetings of 'Welcome back, Detective' or something more like 'Great to see you, Beckett,' until she reached the boundary of the tape. Right. No matter how at ease she felt with these scenarios, she knew she'd probably never be at peace with the symbol a crime scene tape holds in her mind. No matter how many times she crossed these tapes, it was always the image of her own mother that comes into her mind, first and foremost. Then the picture of the victim kicks in; that's when her Detective mode takes over.

Another life lost.

"Yo, Beckett!" Esposito hurried to her side, and gave her a nice, welcome back hug. She hugged him back, even tighter than she had intended to. Damn she missed this guy.

"Drinks later. We have a case to solve," Ryan walked towards them and tapped Kate's shoulder. She turned, and lightened up at the sight of him. "We missed you too, boss. But seriously, drinks later; we have a case to solve,"

Kate rolled her eyes, and squatted beside Lanie. "What do we got, Lanie?"

Esposito stood close behind, while Ryan went off to interview another witness. "Male, based on his I.D. right here, his name's Jed Hudson, 29 years old, and an office clerk at Home Depot. With that information, I don't see how he got killed, but, there's a GSW here." she pointed on the man's left rib, "…which could've easily ruptured his lung, probably causing immediate pulmonary edema, but I'll never know for sure once this guy gets to the lab. So far, I found three stab wounds, one to his heart, and two to his abdomen,"

Kate nodded, studying the body before her. "What about his face?" Badly beaten cheeks, and a broken nose.

"Some of these bruising were inflicted days ago, that I can say, and this one, was from maybe two to three hours, including the broken nose,"

"Classic crime of passion," Esposito cut in, taking notes on the medical voodoo Lanie had been explaining.

"Seems like it," She said and got to her feet. "Any witnesses?" She asked, only, Esposito wasn't there to answer her question. His attention was on the incoming black XUVs heading their way. Big, and black and shiny, and utterly familiar to Kate. Then the convoy of three cars stopped in the middle of the commotion, and a herd of suit-donning agents stepped out. "What the…"

"What are your friends doing here, Beckett?" he asked. Ever since the dawn of time, there had been a silent war between the Feds and the detectives.

"I don't know, and they're not my friends," she briefly replied and went over the group of men who had just barged into her crime scene. Then, one familiar face. Too familiar face, actually. She stopped in her tracks. "Seriously?" she exclaimed, her voice loud enough to get that one agent's attention. "Are you seriously taking jurisdiction?" Thomas Krauss. Thomas Krauss and his cocky smile and shiny leather shoes.

"Katherine Beckett, there you are!"—he proudly waved and strode closer, his hair bouncing back and forth on his head.

Kate could only groan. "I see you sobered up, Krauss."

"Again, Tom will do. I don't even like my last name. And I am sorry about the drunken speech at the party. Wasn't me." He held both his hands in the air. "Nice to see you working again, Beckett. Director's orders, though. We have to take this from here."

"What?" Kate protested. "I'm sorry, but this is already our case, Krauss."

"Please, call me Tom." He insisted. "And again, Director's orders. This is our guy Jed Hudson. He's been giving the FBI relevant information."

Ryan walked in on them. "Captain Gates made a call. The FBI will be in partnership with us on this one, Beckett,"

"Wha—" now it was his turn to sigh. Nobody ever liked the idea of liaisons. It just made for messy investigations, and secrets in between the two supposed to be teaming parties. They didn't have much of a choice now, but to get along.

"Detective Kevin Ryan, this is Agent Thomas Krauss, Krauss, this is Ryan." Kate introduced him to the bunch, and made way for Tom's sight on Lanie, "The one with the victim is Lanie Parish, our ME," then she paused, and located Esposito—who had not gone her way—in the crowd, "…then Javier Esposito."

"Nice team you have here, Detective." He complimented. "If you don't mind, our Crime Scene Unit has to sweep the place,"

And just like that, Tom and his boys crossed the tape, and scavenged the area for evidence which their team had possibly missed. Kate watched from a distance.

"Are we not going to like this guy, Beckett?"

"If you like working with a nine-year old on a sugar rush, I say he'll be fine," Nine year-old on a sugar rush. Using that on another person felt wrong, even coming out of her own mouth, "Other than that, he's good."

**-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

He fixed his bowtie and looked at himself in the mirror. One. Last. Time.

The limousine was waiting at the lobby, and Alexis had been at war between her peach stilettos and black pumps. It didn't matter much to him. She looked perfect in his eyes, no matter what. But then no matter how he combed his hair to place, or how perfect his bowtie sat on his collar, something still felt off. And he knew just what.

Beckett. He still couldn't believe the recurring scene in his mind from this afternoon. Kate handing the book, Kate speaking to him about congratulations and a novel, then Kate leaving. It all seemed surreal. He hadn't seen her in what, a year! And she just walked in on his book signing like it was no big of a deal. Well, in fact, it wasn't so much of a big deal—he tried to convince himself. But how can it not be? Obviously, she felt distant enough to show up on the signing when she could have easily called him the moment she got back. But then, if she called, but could he had done? He would have understood the not-keeping-in-touch protocol. But Kate showing up in the bookstore certainly turned things around. It didn't take the writer in Castle to figure out that they still had things to talk about. It was Kate, for heaven's sake.

"You ready, dad?" Alexis broke him out of his thoughts, and he turned, looking at his wonderful daughter dressed in a metallic blue tube top dress that was sweet and innocently daring at the same time. He must have been staring for a long time—and the kind of look that didn't depict happiness—when Alexis motioned to his side. "What's up?"

He shook his head. "Nothing,"

"The press will never be nice. But you're awesome and you'll do great. You always did," she reassured him, tapping a hand on his broad chest. "And most especially in this classy tuxedo of yours,"

Castle smiled. "Thanks, baby, but it's not that."

Alexis' smile faded into a frown. Uh-oh. "Something came up with Stefanie?" At first, she was being extra cautious when Stefanie first came into their lives. She was sweet, and nurturing and seemed like she really cared for her father, but after what a mess he had been when Beckett left, Alexis' protective daughter side went up a notch or two. That's why Castle couldn't blame his daughter when she sneaked into calling Detective Ryan into pulling a background check on Stefanie Patrick.

But then Castle shook his head, leaving Alexis to wonder. "Then, what is it?"

He breathed out a heavy sigh. "I don't know. But Beckett showed up at the book signing today,"

She gasped. "Kate did what?"

He looked away. "I shouldn't be feeling worried. I mean, after all that's happened, I shouldn't be…I don't know, kid."

"Oh," Alexis huffed out a breath. "Well, it is Kate. She'll always be Kate. I completely understand. Even after you've moved on, certainly there are these unresolved issues with Kate, right?" He only nodded, so she continued. "So maybe this is what's causing the weird feeling."

"Yeah, you're right." He said, and relaxed a little. "Thank you, my wise, wise, daughter. Now let's go get some press," With Alexis' arm around Castle's, they exited the loft and slid inside the black limo, where the agitated, but more of excited Martha waited.

Alexis was right. Kate, will _always_ be Kate.

**-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

_"What is going on, Eagle Eye? Richard Castle should be six feet under by now. That's the plan,"—the voice in the other line didn't sound happy. _

_"We're looking for the best possible moment, boss. This has got to be nicely wrapped up. Like you said,"_

_"If you must; make sure you don't fail. If the detective gets ahead of us, you are going to be six feet under. What happened with Jed Hudson got the ball rolling. The FBI and NYPD are on a roll, kid. You know how those minds work."_

_"Richard Castle will disappear in the face of the earth without a single trace, boss. Nicely wrapped up, like you said."_

_"You better, Eagle Eye. Got wind on the kid?"_

_"None yet, boss. What do we do with the little girl?"_

_"Don't let her die, that's all,"_

* * *

**Hang ON! **

**Keep the reviews coming. Good reviews are very goooood motivations. Thank you thank you to all who followed and favorited this story. Meant a lot. lot. lot.**

**Also, I may not be able to update regularly, as I have comprehensive exams coming up. Can't believe I'm moving to third year in June already. Ahh! Soon I'll be a Pharmacist, but anyway, enjoy and live long enough for Season 6 :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**{CHAPTER SIX}**

**A/N: Hey guys! A lot of people asked me to rewrite this chapter. Your insights made me realize that the Kate Beckett in this story was falling out of character, and I am sorry for that. Maybe I shouldn't write and study at the same time, really.**

**So I rewrote some parts in this chapter. I think it's best to take it slow to make it realistic.**

**But anyways, thank you guys for your insights. I really appreciate it. :) Although it's nice to crash out curse words. Cause I'm a kid. *insert scoff here* But seriously, I can be considered a kid. **

**So here goes the edited chapter. Enjoy!**

**-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

Jon McLaughlin's _So Close_ played in the background, and the program proper had just ended. Now it was all up to them to dance to the music, and maul over the excerpts that were given as giveaways. Two chapters of the book that left them wanting more. He couldn't be more elated at the success of it all—the raving reviews, and the fans waiting outside to have their copies signed. But nothing could have ever be as special as he lead Stefanie for a complete twirl, making her long, brown locks dance as she graced the floor, his one hand resting on the small of her back, and the other intertwined in the gaps between her fingers.

"Having fun?" he closed the gap between his mouth and her ear as he whispered. "You look really beautiful tonight,"

"As do you, writer boy," she replied, and lifted both her arms, and hung them around Castle's neck. "Do you want to have drinks later?"

"Yeah, we can ask Iggy the bartender for some specials," he said, and lifted a finger to get the barkeep's attention.

Stefanie caught his hand, and brought it back her side. "I mean someplace else,"

"The Old Haunt?"

"Excellent,"

**-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

They watched as the big and high-tech FBI toys rolled into the precinct, making their traditional murder board look old school and slow to solve cases. Tom and his subordinates set the equipment in their supposed to be break room, and started with the crime scene photos, moved on to the phone records, e-mails, last persons to see Jed Hudson alive, and all of his history, all in a flick of a finger. The absence of someone who adored these made for a quiet on-going investigation. If Castle was here, he could well be swooning over all these.

"So far we have five persons we can ask about Jed Hudson," Tom said; eyes fixed on the photos, zooming in and out without so much of a purpose. Ryan and Esposito exchanged looks. Kate didn't react. One year of working with the guy and she got used to it all. Actually, a part of the big and tech-savvy toys became home to her. And Tom's brilliant—yet sometimes awfully childish—mind helped her be better. Be more than what she already was.

"I'll take care of the documents," Ryan volunteered. Ever since Jenny had given birth to a beautiful baby boy, he distanced himself from the danger of field work.

"Shall we, Kate?" Tom offered. Kate looked over at Esposito, who looked much enthused to join the FBI agent in his quest, so she let him. And for a fact, she missed Ryan. A little time with one of her good friends would be nice.

Kate sat at the end of the long table in the break room, with printed e-mail messages sprawled in front of them, in between take-outs from the Chinese restaurant around the block. No matter how hard she tried to block Castle out of her mind, and focus on the work that had to be done, she always ended up thinking about the man she shouldn't be minding now, really.

"…these are trash," Ryan put down the fifth page and faced Kate. "…nothing but advertisement campaigns,"

Kate had barely recognized Ryan, too buried within her own thoughts. She wasn't exactly cherishing the moment with a good friend, and every minute that passed, looking blindly on to the e-mails just made her want to leave the precinct and crash into a nice, comfortable bed, and avoiding the continuation of Lanie's parade of questions.

She asked Kate if she still loved Castle. A hundred percent yes to that. The next questions would certainly be about regrets on turning him down. A hundred and one percent yes to that. Her eyes wandered to her old desk; now occupied by a promising, young agent. Everything in the desk was different. But the chair still sat there; the one he sat on while he watched her do the paper work, effectively distracting her, and at the same time effectively kept her spirits up.

"—Kate?" Ryan's voice broke through her thoughts.

Kate looked up at him; concern gnawing at his features.

"What's up?"

She forced a smile. Kate took a deep breath before going on, "…a lot could change in a year, huh?"

Ryan agreed, and he knew Kate better than to pretend this wasn't about the missing writer. He had caught her stare at the empty chair just outside the room. They didn't know the whole story as to why they ended the way they did, but there was one thing they were sure of. Neither of them had taken it the easy way. Castle had been a mess, and God knows what Kate had been doing in the first weeks, all alone in the new city. But then the song 'Breakeven' must have gotten it right; the heart breaks, but it never breaks even.

Castle had moved on, and he had all the right to. And they thought Kate did, too. After all, Kate Beckett was Kate Beckett. She was a warrior in a storm. Having been through worse, they thought this would be a small bump in the road. But one year later, they realized how wrong they had been. To their surprise, the wheels had turned, and this time, it was Kate that was hanging on to a sliver of hope that Castle would look at her the same way he did.

"…you're right about these. They're not much help. I'll start with the finances," she said, trying to get out of Ryan's pitiful gaze. Although a part of her appreciated it. She stood, and went over to the big screen, where the window for the victim's most recent financial transactions was loading. Nothing of suspicion, though. Just the normal credit card purchases of beer, diapers, and more beer. Not much of a help in trying to distract herself.

She knew now she had made the wrong decision that afternoon at the diner, when her last resort was to seek advice to her father. He told her she had the right to choose. But whatever she decided should be what he heart wants, not because she was scared. She tried to make herself believe that it was what she really wanted. But she was just a rabbit in the foxhole. Kate was scared of where they were headed. She guarded herself with her walls for so long; Castle had successfully clawed and scratched for every inch, and she felt bare—too prone for pain. If she realized that Castle would never let her down, maybe she had made the right decision.

Now Castle has Stefanie Patrick. She never even met the woman, yet she could already agree on the fact that she was good for him.

"…anything?" Ryan broke her out of her thoughts again. She had been staring at the fully loaded window blankly for so long, she didn't realize the numbers piling up by the day. Finally, something to get her mind off of him.

"For five consecutive days, Five thousand dollars were deposited into his bank account, and he withdrew the amount on the same day of deposit,"

"Huh, five grand is big," Ryan cocked his head over to his shoulder.

"Can we trace the depositor?" Kate looked over her shoulder and asked the only tech guy left in the precinct. He nodded, and worked magic with his keyboard. In less than a minute, a bank account popped up on the screen. "Jean Bright,"

"What do we know about Jean Bright?" she asked, and listened to the sound of keyboard snapping under the tech's fingers. All his research started to print out of the printer and Kate rushed to the side to collect. Wow, Jean Bright was certainly not Jean Bright. She was five other persons. Jane Montgomery, Claire Summer, Cynthia Frey, Ruth Lister and Jean Bright.

"We're going to have a long night, Ryan,"

**-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

The night had died down, and they had just made it to his loft, hand in hand, as they made the short walk to his door. It was a good night. _Supposed to be a good night_. First day on the shelves and his book's sales shot through the roof. But a hollow feeling inside him left him drained of all energy he reserved for the night.

He couldn't stop thinking about Kate. Her green eyes, soft hair, sweet smile; even when he was holding Stefanie's hand.

Stefanie's great. She helped him go through the toughest days of his life yet. She was great for him. But guilt ate away at him when his mind couldn't get off of Kate Beckett. The woman who took his heart and broke it into a thousand pieces at her feet. Stefanie was the one who picked the pieces up. Looking right into her eyes, he knew she was still picking the few pieces left.

Then, one look at Kate, and all of his progress spiraled down the dark hole. Showing up at the book signing could be just another spur of the moment decision, but then, she had to wait hours, and had every chance to turn back—but she didn't.

Stefanie realized his heart wasn't a hundred percent with her, so she squeezed his knuckles, and got his attention. "Doing fine?"

Castle smiled. "Yeah, just tired. Had fun tonight?"

She nodded. "Thank you for tonight,"

Castle grinned in return, "No, thank you."—he trailed off, and stopped in front of his door—"thank you for fixing me,"

Stefanie smiled. Neither did she know it was Richard Castle speak for 'I'm breaking, please fix me again'.

Damn Kate Beckett. He thought he had long forgotten her. Then again, maybe it was the unresolved issues they have that were making it all so difficult to think about.

There was one way to find out.

They needed to talk.

**-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

**Going on a hiatus again. I probably won't update until Friday. Wish me luck on my exams!**

**So here's a little something: Chris Pine is Thomas Krauss' face claim in this story. I haven't decided on who Stefanie Patrick is going to be. But baby, ****_Chris Pine_****. Nobody says no to Chris Pine.**

**Background stories on Thomas Krauss and his time with Kate in the FBI soon. I think you'll love him.**

**Anyways, thank you thank you for your support! Gosh! You make my day. Please send in your opinions. I would like to hear them :) Keep reading. **


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Hey there! I apologize for the long delay. But it's freaking worth it because I passed my Comprehensive Exam! I'm now a Pharmacy Aid. Two more years and I'm officially a legal drug dealer. **

**So, here goes chapter seven. I hope you like it. **

**Reviews-meanie or not meanie-are very welcome. :)**

**Thanks!**

* * *

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

"Is something bugging you, Rick?" Stefanie peered into his office, where apparently, he had been sitting for quite some time without so much as bulging. He snapped in her direction, a small smile appearing on his bewildered features as he watched her come close, two cups of identical coffee mugs in hand. But she saw right through him, and he hadn't been quite the same since last week, when Beckett showed up at the bookstore. Castle couldn't help but feel guilty about his indifference, and he swore he wanted to spit it out to Stefanie, yet the idea of it made him feel like he was cheating; when it was far, far from that. He didn't even do anything! He just signed the book, greeted her, and that was it. She was before he processed that there wasn't a bit of normalcy in the situation. "You've been _weird_,"

He's been acting a lot worse than weird. For more than once, he had shut himself in his own thoughts, blocking out the tiny conversations he and Stefanie stay late at night for, and for more than once, he had failed to realize she had been asking for his opinions—that don't really matter that much—about her dress, her choice of shoes, or how the pancakes tasted.

The worst part of it all is that he didn't like blocking Stefanie out. Castle wanted nothing more than to stay late at night as she gave away supposed to be confidential details about her cases, comment about her dress, and adore how she struts the hardwood floor with those killer heels. But none of that had been happening lately. Because no matter how he forced himself to focus, his mind always wandered back to Kate. He wasn't supposed to be so affected, dammit!

He cleared his throat, and took a large gulp of his morning coffee. Castle looked up at her. Oh no. She had her 'lawyer' face on. This was a point of no return. She relaxed as he caved in, and went behind him to ease his tensed shoulders. "Well, you remember Kate Beckett?"

Stefanie let out a laugh. Right. Who was he kidding? Of course she remembered Kate Beckett. He tripped down into memory lane, looking back to those drunken nights, where he poured his heart out to a woman he barely knew, about a woman he had been following around for a long, long time, who had crushed his heart into a million pieces. "So, what about her?" her voice cut through his thoughts. Damn, he did it again.

"She showed up at the book signing. Last week."

Stefanie's hands left his biceps, and she stood right in front of him, arms crossed around her waist, betrayal—or, something a little lighter than betrayal—written in her eyes. "Last week." She said, more like a statement than a confirmatory pause.

Castle nodded, instinctively putting on a defensive stance. "I'm sorry, Stef. I shouldn't have kept secrets." Oh that statement. Where it all fell apart. "Not that there's any secrets to keep. She just showed up, and left. I was…" he backed down, the brief memory playing back and forth his mind. Then he glanced up at Stefanie once more. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I was just…"

"It felt awkward?" She tilted her head, her voice a little softer now. He heaved a sigh of relief.

He nodded, "Yeah, it was awkward. What's bugging me is that, I'm realizing just now; we never had the chance to smooth things out. We broke and didn't deal with the aftermath."

She leaned against his desk, head dipped down. "Closure?"

"Yeah." He replied, his voice cracking without him noticing. Because Stefanie was right. The last time he had seen Kate Beckett was at that afternoon in the swings. He proposed, she turned him down, then she flew to D.C. Lanie filled him in on what he missed; how Beckett waited until the last minute of boarding, holding on to a sliver of hope that he was coming to see her. One last time. At least, to have a decent goodbye.

But that didn't happen. He was well too intoxicated to make it to his kitchen without giving himself a bruise. He remembered a shadow of the pain she had caused him, and that was what he kept on reminding himself to stop him from dialing the all too familiar numbers. He couldn't remember when everything started going uphill, but then he was certain Stefanie was a big part of it. He stopped thinking of Kate, burying the memories—good and bad—in the back of his mind, stopped holding on to the things she left in the loft, and at one point, finally found the courage to put it all in a box in the corner of his office.

"I should talk to her, right?"

Stefanie looked up, her eyes screaming protest. But Castle had never let him down, and this couldn't be any different. So instead of voicing out her thoughts, she smiled. "If I were her, I'd like some closure, too, Rick."

"Thank you." He mouthed, and clasped his fingers on to hers.

"I'll see you tonight, alright? I've got to run." She hurried, and picked her black and white leopard print purse and coat, then walked out his door. Something wasn't right, and he knew that. After all the little clues he missed in his relationship with Kate; little clues he missed that led to their fallout, he tried to be more observant. Maybe this talk with Beckett will put everything back to normal.

Castle's eyes shifted to the box sitting on the corner with a thick layer of dust, and thought of today as the right time to return her things. A part of him still longed to hold on to her belongings, but then again, he had moved on, and Kate deserved to do the same.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

A click of a round button, the beep of a car on lock, a brief walk to the lobby and a short ride to the homicide floor—all but a haze of a déjà vu. Only, it wasn't some unexplained phenomena of the brain. Kate realized it was all but her life returning to what it had been six years ago, before the nine-year old on a sugar rush writer stepped into her life. Years back, she would be relieved at the solemn and professional atmosphere in the precinct.

Not anymore. Kate spotted Ryan and Esposito in the makeshift FBI headquarters, going over the screens, glancing back and forth at each other. Tom, stood ever so stiffly in one corner, one hand tracing the stubble on his chin. It must have been the spidey sense when Tom caught her gaze, as if he felt the weight of her stare on him. Not stare. It was a look. A glance.

He nodded in greeting as she walked into the cramped up room.

"Anything?"

Ryan looked over his shoulder. "Well, so far we've tracked down the wife, and uniforms are one their way back."

"Still, nothing on the fake IDs. So far we've got nothing but grocery purchases. Last transaction was made by Claire Summer, seven months ago, and still, nothing suspicious."

She furrowed her eyebrow, out of theories as to explain the multiple accounts. Nothing ever made sense, so far. "What's Jed Hudson doing in the FBI's radar Agent?"

Tom straightened up, letting out a small sigh of surrender. The FBI's secrets have secrets. Kate, of all people, knew that, and it wasn't an accident that their noses were into a just like any other twisted homicide. "Jed Hudson retired from the FBI, three years ago."

"Yo, man, how did we miss that?" Esposito bucked up. Sure, the FBI had their ways.

Kate crossed her arms. "When did you plan on telling us?"

"The big boss wanted to keep it clean. But as we're coming to a dead end in every turn, it'd be best to disclose important information. Jed Hudson was never to work at the FBI ever again," he trailed off, and motioned to the screen, popped only God knows what, and shifted to another window. There. All of the victim's 'wiped out' history. "…but he's an asset. And his very specific skills set came in handy."

His finger tapped the print button, and the printer on one side of the room came to life, buzzing and screeching slightly with each paper. Just in time, a couple of uniforms walked in, accompanying a young, red-haired woman to the interrogation room. "Do the honors, detective?" Tom offered, pointing to the direction of the woman.

Kate heeded without much ado, trusting the lengthy paper work to the boys. She had done quite enough of the desk work back in D.C., and her heart ached for something good and old as the interrogation process. A folder in hand, she entered the room, brisk enough to earn a warm respect, and feminine enough to get someone's trust. "I'm sorry for your loss, Mrs. Hudson,"

"Oh no, missy," the woman snapped. "Ain't no Mrs. Hudson no more; the bastard signed the divorce papers the other day." She held up the hand where the wedding ring was supposed to go. Kate pulled up the steel chair opposite the ex-wife, glancing briefly at the file to learn her name. "Not even surprise he got killed. After the entire dirty job's he's been working."

Kate perked up, and held her pen. "Can you tell me about this dirty job?"

"I'm sorry. I don't know much." She shook her head. Kate nodded. She still had that knack for separating the liars to the real ones. "…I only cared about bringing food to the table. I've been working day and night and he's been doing whatever business he's doing." A tear slipped on the woman's cheek, and her hand was quick to wipe it. "…that _bastard_."

The detective paused, and waited until the other had recomposed herself. Then, she laid open the folder she'd been clutching. "Do any of these names ring a bell to you?"

"Yeah. Actually, this one…" she pointed to the second to the last name, "Claire Summer. Around months ago, I thought Jed was having an affair. Been getting calls and whatnot. I confronted him about it, and the calls stopped. Last thing I've heard of the name."

"Did you have any chance to meet Claire Summer?"

"No. Just calls. I didn't even hear the voice." She shrugged, pushing back the files to Kate's direction.

Each turn made her a bit more frustrated. Above all, she didn't like working with ghost suspects. "When was the last time you saw Jed Hudson?"

"Yesterday morning. Kissed our little girl goodbye and that was it. I didn't think it was a big deal when he didn't come home. Some other times, he'd go missing for a whole week."

Beckett squared her shoulders, and leaned against the back of her chair. With nothing much to extract from the oblivious wife, she sent her home, with a promise of justice, _villain or hero_, everybody deserved some sort of justice. It had been her paradigm as a homicide detective. Beckett shut the door behind her, and let her feet drag her back to where his colleagues were. Captain Gates had yet to give Beckett her desk back, and not having a fort wasn't much big of a road block, but it wasn't easy, either.

Her gaze drifted to the row of desks, read the name plates, inwardly celebrating that she was still welcome in the NYPD. At least there was a part of home that didn't change. She looked up, and what her eyes saw next caused her to stop in her tracks.

Castle. _What was he…_

For a moment there, she blinked back to those happier times; Castle waiting at the edge of her table, two large cups of her favorite coffee in hand, mouth stretched into a wide smile as she walked towards him. Those times they had to put on extra effort to keep their hands of each other, and the fierce longing they saw in each other's eyes, and their hands relaying the words buried deep within each other, all under a light cloud of romance.

Well. There's none of that now. There's just a man, standing a mere feet in front of her, his eyes locked on hers, and it was not the same. He was smiling, but only half-heartedly, and his arms were clutching a box, and she recognized that one. It was the same box she had used to move some of her stuffs into his loft.

A fresh wave of sting washed over her, and forced her feet to work. Kate never would have thought a day would come that Castle—the man she learned to love more than she ever loved anyone, and not to mention, the insistent little boy who followed her for so long—would finally let her go.

"I uh…" he broke their gaze, and looked down at the sealed box, setting it onto the chair beside him. "I meant to have these sent out when you were in uhh…" despite the circumstances, Kate found it cute to watch a nervous Richard Castle. It was but a once in a lifetime sight. But still, she didn't find the courage to spit out a single word. "…when you were in D.C."

"I forgot about those." Lie. She dreaded for the day a shipment from New York shows up at her door—the last thing that reminded Castle of her. "Thank you."

"I'll just leave it right there, so..." he trailed off, and took in a sharp breath. Castle had never been so anxious around someone before. Especially not around Beckett. Hell, he stuck around even when she clearly didn't want him. Stayed by her side when she needed a hand to hang on, and gave her space whenever she felt being alone. Right from the beginning, he'd always been at such a comfortable level with her. More than the _comfortable_ level.

He shifted his weight, and gathered what courage left in him to let the words flow. He didn't realize they'd been standing opposite each other for quite some time until she cleared her throat, and basing on the extra suit-donning crowd and big toys, he knew he came in at the wrong time. But to hell with that.

"We didn't get to talk." He blurted, and she stiffened. "We didn't get some kind of closure." And that was such a shame. For him, because she had been a huge part of him, and losing her in a bitter ending was something he didn't want, and for her, because the closure thing wasn't one of the many things she wanted to tell him.

"Yeah." She forced the word out of her dry throat.

"I don't want to be like this around you, Beckett." He said, gentle and kind, as if his words didn't stab her deep enough. "We should talk."

She swallowed a lump in her throat. Beckett was only kidding herself when she thought she had the slightest chance to make things the way they used to be. And she despised Castle for making her into this needy, broken-hearted teenager who's constantly mooning over some senior in high school. Every now and then, she had to remind himself that she lost him. It was her fault. And she just had to live with that. "I agree."

Castle nodded slightly.

"I'm free for lunch in three." Said Beckett; her voice cracking at the end of every sentence.

"Remy's?"

"Remy's."

Then he reached a hand out for a handshake that was nothing but painfully awkward. Beckett released his palm, and offered a small smile, as he headed back to the elevator. She dipped her head, and clenched his eyes, as if that would make her regain her composure, or pine for him any less. When she looked up, Ryan and Esposito are already looking in her direction, concern written on their faces. She carried the box with her arms, and walked into the room.

"You okay, Beckett?" Esposito asked in a low whisper, a strong hand gripping on her shoulders, cautiously on the lookout for her.

She smiled, and set the carton down. "I will be."

Esposito nodded, and knew better than to push. So he distracted her with the new information from the Vic. It was all over the screen. A hundred or so case files, ranging from homicide to murder to robbery. "Our guy's a lawyer—and a good one—before he worked for the FBI. We're looking into his cases, see if any of these is related to what he's been up to. Maybe it's someone Hudson put behind bars."

"What's the word with the wife, Detective?" Tom asked, dismissing the information from the others. Beckett rolled, and gave off every bit of information she had been given. Divorce papers, negligence as the family's provider, late nights out, dirty jobs, Castle showing up at the precinct. Castle returning her things. Castle wanting closure. Castle moving on. Without her.

No, she was far from alright.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

The last thing she ate was two pieces of grilled cheese and a glass of orange juice. It was well beyond her eating time, but she didn't feel the least overcome by hunger. The smell of beefy, presumptuous burgers filled her nostrils, and the screeching smoothie machines wracked her ears. Beckett made light taps on the wooden table, eyes fixed on her hands, because watching the others to get through the boredom didn't seem so polite. She came in ten minutes earlier, when Ryan and Esposito suggested she take a break. The boys knew she wasn't the least focused. And she hated herself for that.

Beckett drew a deep breath, and shifted his gaze to the passers-by outside the glass window. A black sports car pulled up in the driveway, and at first she could only make out the woman on the passenger's seat—familiar—and a moment more for her to realize that Castle was in the driver's seat. She watched as both the doors swung open.

_Oh. _

_His girlfriend. And he let her drive his car. _

_And wait, she's the girl from the coffee stall. What are the chances?_

The woman went her way to the driver's side, and kissed Castle goodbye. Her fingers tugged on his shirt as they locked their lips for a brief, yet too much for her to bear moment. Beckett felt her chest tighten, and so she looked away. The next time she looked, the woman was already behind the wheel, and he stood by, waiting until the black car blended into traffic.

_Wow. This is what Lanie meant by serious-as-a-heart-attack. _

Beckett exhaled deeply, and put what little glimmer of hope left inside her into a small box and buried it deep in the comforts of her walls; the same walls he had so skillfully scratched and clawed away. She didn't realize how far she'd gone out of her mind until Castle slid inside the booth.

She snapped in a startle.

"Sorry." He said in a snide remark, his lips stretched into a wide smile. He had yet to recover from the smooch fest earlier.

"It's alright." She put on a pensive stance, and straightened her back, so she was stiffly seated. Castle felt like being thrown back in time when Beckett was nothing but cold and stoic towards him. "Lanie filled me in on what I missed this past year." Suddenly she was talking more, and feeling less. Maybe it was the realization that she had _officially_ lost him, or watching Castle be with another woman; but something inside her burned. "The new novel, who's the lucky _muse_?" she said, trying to sound casual and failing at every level. Lucky muse seemed like a better choice than new muse. Even though she knew the very answer to her question.

He hesitated, and his answer left his lips in almost a whisper. "Samantha Winters is based on uh, well, Stefanie. She's my uh…"

Beckett nodded, already fighting back long-held tears. He noticed this. Well, Castle knew her like the back of his hand. "It's a good read."—she mumbled with a smile that didn't make her eyes sparkle. He missed that.

"Samantha's different. She's well…" he shrugged, unable to put his thoughts into concrete words. Not with Nikki Heat around. "…_different_, like I said."

"I think she's perfect." _For you. She makes you happy_. _She's fun. Uncomplicated. _He was right when he said those two traits were just what he needed.

"How are you, Kate?" he changed the subject, as a cloud of cold ice rose above them, making it a lot harder to talk things through.

"Good." Right. Who was she kidding? "We're currently working a case. Everything's going back to what they used to be." Not a complete lie, if she meant back to the years before Castle started coming in for research.

Castle felt a sharp pang in his chest. He was no longer a part of Kate's normal. Then he mentally kicked himself in the butt for being too concern about that. He shouldn't care. But a part of him became home to the solving of cases and almost-dying with his partner. One look into her pair of green eyes, and he felt something inside him stir—only to be reminded of how miserable she had made him. Before he even realized, he was already on the roll. "You hurt me, Kate. Bad."

She was dumbfounded. And so was he.

But then this whole 'closure' thing was never going to work if they weren't so honest with each other. So he went on. And Kate sat still, her feet itching to get away, but her heart screamed at her to stay. So she listened. "I couldn't take that we broke up for a job." He emphasized, like a thousand knives to her already bruised heart. "...I loved you." Past tense. "I really did." Past tense again.

Beckett nodded, fighting back emotions. She was usually good at that. If this was his way of coming to terms with everything, finally letting out the anger he had so skillfully tucked inside his chest, she let him be.

"You turned me down, Kate. I had to move on." Castle said softly, as if his words were going to break her. And by the feeling of it, she might; because it was over. She had known for a while, but coming out of his lips, it felt official. Final. Like a death sentence she was going to face outside the four walls of the diner.

Words had left her. And a rogue tear slid down her cheek.


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER XIII**

**_But nothing's greater than the rush that comes with your embrace_**

_And in this world of loneliness I see your face_

_Yet everyone around me thinks that I'm going crazy_

_Maybe, maybe_

**_Bleeding Love, Leona Lewis_**

**~Q~Q~Q~Q~Q~Q~Q~Q~Q~Q~Q~Q~Q~Q~Q~Q~Q~Q~**

_"He's falling deeper into the steel trap, boss." A chuckle. "Richard Castle will be toast in no time."_

_"Good, good. Do it right. And neat, Eagle Eye."_

_"Aye, boss."_

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

One, final goodbye for him, yet Beckett wasn't so sure if she could do the same. But she saw the way his eyes flickered when he spoke about Stefanie. Then she knew it was endgame. Then, she was sure, she could do the same. The question though, was a big, fat HOW and HOW LONG. She could always pretend. She had been good at that. Hell! It had been her forte. She could always keep a cool front.

It took him around ten minutes to let it all out on her. He told her about the late nights spent not sleeping, the beer bottles piling up by the hour in his bin, and the 'I've been meaning to call you, but I think of that day and I toss my phone back to the floor' speech. She didn't have the nerve to tell him about what she had gone through. Not when it was her fault they had been miserable in the first place. Besides, this was his day for his closure. Beckett could get hers some other time.

"...how's the case going?" He asked casually, filling in cold pauses every now and then. She mustered a small grunt, and he grinned. "Getting on your nerves, huh?"

Beckett nodded. "Absolutely." Yes. Absolutely. He was absolutely oblivious to her feelings. Apparently, he had lost the knack of reading her to the core. He used to know her thoughts like he was her mirror. She glanced at her wrist watch. Perfect. Time to get out of this situation. It might be—though she hoped not—the last time she was to talk to him again. "About that, I have to leave now. Lunch break's over."

He gave his phone a quick glance, "Oh, right." Castle looked up, and smiled. Wow. After all this time, it still stirred her brains. "I'm glad we talked, Kate." He said, sliding out of his booth, and she did the same, offering back a small smile out of politeness. The best smile she could give without looking too preoccupied.

He followed her to the streets, pausing before walking back to wherever he was headed.

"I'm _happy_ for you, Rick." And she meant that. She loved him; loved him enough to let him go.

He took her hand, a gesture that sent her crumbling down inside. But she let him, satisfying his need to be a gentleman, and satisfying her need to be held by him. One last time. He brought it to his lips, and placed a soft, gentle kiss.

A smile broke out her mouth. For a moment, the pain inside her numbed. Not for long, though. When he released her, the searing throb in her chest hit her like a thousand daggers.

"I'll see you around, Kate."

**~Q~Q~Q~Q~Q~Q~Q~Q~Q~Q~Q~Q~Q~Q~**

Beckett shrugged off every bit of emotion hanging over her head. She knew it would a long time to take that they were _over_. It was high school all over again, when she 'fell' in love with the senior jock that broke her heart by the end of fall. The diner wasn't too far, a good three blocks from the precinct. It was fifteen minutes before one when she lied about her break being over. And she wasn't surprised when this slipped right through him. So Beckett took the liberty of trailing back; crisp, Manhattan wind biting at her skin.

Two blocks down, her phone rang, grateful for the ID to read 'Lanie'. She slid a finger on her skin, and held the device up on her ear

"Lanie, you got something?"

"A _little_ something. I can relay it over the—"

"It's okay, I'll come over." She said, before giving her friend a chance to comment on her cracking voice, and sudden need to see her. Well, it was Lanie Parish for heaven's sake. She probably already knew.

The hike didn't take long, and by one o'clock, Beckett was already walking down the familiar hallway leading to her friend's laboratory. She swung the door open, and found Lanie scooting over some papers, occasionally glancing back and forth the dead body.

Lanie looked up, and flashed a wide, yet albeit concerned smile. "I found out what our victim last ate. Judging by what gastric juice left us, sushi." She beamed. Well, that's something. Lanie wasn't kidding when she said she had a _little _something.

"I'll have Ryan and Espo check for sushi bars near the crime scene." Said Beckett, reaching out for her phone, and speed typing requests she later sent to the other two detectives.

"One more finding, though." Beckett nodded, and watched as Lanie walked over to a tray, where a badly decomposed piece of paper lay in wait. "Found this in his esophagus. He swallowed it maybe ten to fifteen minutes before he was killed. Official cause of death is asphyxiation. Time of death is around 6-7 in the evening."

"What? But there are no tread marks." Beckett countered, pointing at the Vic's neck.

"Water on the lungs suggest torture. A soaked towel held over his head, and a good flow of water is our best shot."

"Whoever did this is definitely strong enough to hold a person as big as Jed Hudson."

"One person couldn't have done it." The ME added, and reached out to Kate the paper she found in the Vic's insides, carefully lodged in an evidence ziplock.

Beckett then looked over to the straightened paper. The letters were a little to smeared to be read by the naked eye, so she took a snap of it from her phone and sent it over to the precinct. Lanie was definitely done relaying newfound evidence, and was now staring her down into telling what had happened in the morning.

"Come by a few hours and I'll probably have something brand new, alright?" Lanie rounded the autopsy table, and into a long, working station. "I'll start working on these bad boys…" she meant the sushi residues, "…for possible toxins."

Kate paused, words struggling to escape her throat. But then it would be greatly inappropriate—disrespectful, and a little uncomfortable—to have _that_ conversation in the autopsy room. And she could wait until she and her friend were all set for small chit-chats before going to bed. Not that she'd get any of rest tonight.

"OK. Just give me a call, Lanie." She said, before waving goodbye and again disappearing into the streets. With not much leads to pursue, she was again, left with her thoughts. Beckett looked for her new NYPD-issue cop car, and realized she had walked her way to the OCME. It was a little after noon yet she had felt completely worn down and crushed. Mostly crushed.

Just when a cab had pulled up in front of her, her phone made a squeak. Finally, a distraction. She read the message; 12th precinct.

It said:

**Completed information and timeline on fake IDs. **

**Gates asked for you.**

The last note made her jump. But then she was too tired to even worry about what could happen in those four walls of her boss' office. May it be her sloppy job at this case, or her new desk, Beckett didn't really care. After the short ride, she paid the driver, forgot the change, and hurried up to the homicide floor, effectively blocking out non-work related thoughts. Five fake IDs was sure a lot of work, even with the FBI's toys.

Beckett's eyes wandered to Gates' office, finding her boss slouched on her desk. She drew a sharp breath, and came closer, and realized they won't be alone in this meeting. Tom sat on the far corner, quietly and formally, like one wouldn't expect his complete change of demeanor after a few shots. She held her fingers and rapped on the glass lightly. Gates looked up, and motioned for her to come in.

"Detective, please, come in."

Gates looked over to the agent, who got to his feet when she came in. The police officers stood side by side. "Detective, is it just me or this case is taking extra longer to progress?"

Trick question, or not a trick question? With Gates, it was always safe to nod along. Nod along. "I apologize, sir. But all roads lead to nowhere in particular." Beckett said, earning an affirmative support from Tom.

Gates nodded, concern now written on her face. "Detective, I don't know what goes inside your head, but I suggest…" she trailed off, and looked at Tom, then back at her. "…You need to partner up, Detective. Seeing that…" she paused again, this time to choose her words. "…Mr. Castle," _bad choice, bad choice_. "…is no longer working for the force, I think a new partner will suit you good. Agent Krauss will be just what you need."

"What-" she gasped, not quite believing the new situation. Beckett realized it was better off to be left with her thoughts, than be left with Krauss. Now it was FBI all over again. Beckett knew how this was all going to go down. He'd always been the boss. Always the one to lead. But not this time. New York is her turf. This precinct is her territory.

"Do you have a problem with that, Detective?" Gates asked, no intention of sarcasm whatsoever. Beckett shook her head. Might as well start working now to finish it sooner. Tom, had been so unusually silent through it all, and Beckett guessed that he was probably behind the partnership all along. He annoyed her. And it annoyed Beckett, more than anything, that he liked driving her nuts.

After Gates' 'that-would-be-all' conclusion to the conversation, they both made their way to the temporary headquarters, five separate columns flashed on the big screen. "Hey, Beckett. Check this out."—Esposito chimed, at long last finding something worth following.

Jane Montgomery, Claire Summer, Cynthia Frey, Ruth Lister and Jean Bright.

"Jane Montgomery: 28-year old female, who lives outside of the Bronx. No work. No social connections. Invisible." Ryan set the ball rolling, and moved on to the next column. "Cynthia Frey: 31-years old. Address: The Hamptons. No work. No connections. Invisible." Beckett sighed. "Ruth Lister: 29-years old: Lived in upper east side Manhattan. Only transactions were a couple of paintings bought off of eBay. I wouldn't count on that much. These transactions don't require actual physical contact." He went on, only pausing for much needed breath, and eager to reach the end-point. "Jean Bright: 30 years old. Transactions were the deposits made into the Vic's account, and that's it. Lived in Queens."

"When were the deposits made, again?" Beckett asked. And she hated that details like these no longer stick to her head. Gates probably saw her instability. It was probably out of concern when she made her partner up. Beckett liked the sentiment. Not just the person her boss chose.

"Five consecutive days, starting from May 15th to May 20th. Body dropped on the 21st and the deposits stopped there."

"The FBI didn't pay him during the job." Tom spoke, at last. "Rest assured it didn't come from _us_."

"Any chance he worked as a double agent?" asked Beckett. Tom looked over his shoulder, facing her sideways. It was only then she realized the intensity of the hue of his blue eyes.

"It's not impossible. Jed Hudson was a skilled agent. He could have snooped around without the FBI knowing."

Another theory. Kate mentally took it down and swore never to forget again. Then she diverted her gaze to Ryan, whose earlier parade of information had been interrupted.

He continued, "Now this. Claire Summer. We're thinking this is the real identity. Claire Summer stopped existing when the other four identities came to life. The four were simultaneously used, but Claire Summer's last transactions were of seven months ago. Unfortunately, everything's been wiped out. Work of a professional hacker."

"No face?" Tom asked, getting as frustrated as everyone in the room. Ryan shook his head.

Then he went on, "Anyway, Summer lived in the Bronx, at an old apartment building. Tech's tracking the exact address as we speak."

**~Q~Q~Q~Q~Q~Q~Q~Q~Q~Q~Q~**

Beckett dragged her feet to the elevator, leaning against the glass wall once she got in. This day couldn't have been any dragging. The last five hours were the longest she had in a long time. Normally, when a case didn't make sense she stayed in the precinct and looked hard on the evidence, and if the FBI guys were around, she'd start up her murder board and stall on her desk until something they'd missed showed right up on her face. This wasn't a day for that. When the clock hit five, she excused herself from the boys, and they understood, but not for long.

Tonight was the night to be such a baby about the past. Tomorrow, she'll be the Detective that caught the FBI's attention. The elevator made a familiar 'ding', and she snapped out of her thoughts, and made her way to Lanie's door. Beckett used her key and pushed the door open, the aroma of home cooked dinner filling her nostrils.

"Hey, girl. Just hang in there. Dinner will be ready in ten." Lanie called out from her kitchen. Beckett uttered a small 'OK', not quite sure if her friend caught it. She kicked off her Chucks, and crash landed on the couch, not sure if she'd ever find the courage to get up ever again.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

_"The detective who worked the case."_

_"Detective Katherine Beckett, boss."_

_"Yes, yes." A pause. "She's the last one."_

_"…and the writer?"_

_"And the writer." Another pause. Even on the phone, this had much more intensity. "Take care of them, Eagle Eye."_

* * *

**_Thank you guys for your support!_**

**_Thoughts? :)_**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: ****_Thanks for sticking, guys. Hey, I apologize about the NYPD-FBI thing. Don't know a thing about that, so bear with me. :)_**

**_Here goes another chapter and I hope it brings a little light on Caskett._**

**_Enjoy!_**

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

**CHAPTER IX**

Castle had the honor of picking up Stefanie's dry clean, reminding himself of his girlfriend's instruction to keep the batch in his loft. He paid the Laundromat, and was on his way back to his loft, when he smelled something…bad. "How do you stand that smell?" He muttered to the young boy in the register, and he pointed to the street, where a tinted, black Honda civic, was double-parking. His years in the police force gave him this instinct to check on the plates, which only read 'For Registration'.

"Bad engine for a brand new car, right?" the teenager commented.

Castle agreed, and stepped out. The car drifted and blended into traffic. He shrugged, trying to smooth away suspicions. He hailed a cab, feeling his feet giving up on the pavement. On his way back, the cab passed by Kate's old apartment, the one she sold right after she left for D.C. He got wind from Lanie that a family took the place; a young couple with a baby boy. He remembered feeling so crushed, and he remembered putting himself in that building. They were supposed to be the young couple—well, he's not that young—with a baby boy in their midst. Yeah, he sure thought they were one step away from that. But he knelt to the ground with ring clenched between his fingers, and it all fell backwards and downwards, and into a void that was their situation. They barely lasted an hour with each other. This time last year, they were watching the precinct's wall clock, intently and impatiently, both couldn't wait to go up to The Hamptons.

A sure lot could change in a span of a year.

After his lunch with Kate—_oh, Kate_—he couldn't help but think of what could have happened if she hadn't left. Would she still be the northern star he perceived her to be? Or, would they have stayed together, still working cases, brewing each other a cup of coffee, kissing each other goodbye, only to see each other later at work? He shrugged. Not the right thoughts for someone who's in a relationship, with someone _better_.

_The heart wants what a heart wants, darling_—his mother's voice echoed in his head. He shrugged that, too. He _knows_ what his heart wants. Or does he? And, he shrugged that, too.

But he held her hand earlier today, and he still felt the electricity travel through his veins. He kissed her hand, and he was reminded of the things that made Kate Beckett who she was. The woman he _was_ so madly in love with.

"We're here." The middle-aged cab driver mumbled, getting impatient by his stalling. Castle snapped to the rearview mirror, and then shifted his gaze to the meter. He handed the exact fare, and hopped out. A couple hellos and quick howareyoudoing, in no time he was standing by his door. Inserted his key, and lightly shoved the door open.

The throw pillows have been turned, something a little odd for a mostly empty apartment. His mind wandered back to the black Civic, and couldn't help but feel a little uncomfortable about it.

"Darling, there you are!" Oh, that explains it. And for the first time in a very long time, he was relieved to hear his mother's voice. He set the dry clean to the floor, and turned sideways to Martha, who was wearing a thick fur coat around her small frame.

"Mother." He casually greeted, "When did you get back from London? And do we have a date tonight?" He flashed a quirky, teasing smile, which earned him a well-deserved smack from Martha.

"No dear, I just got back and I was just trying on this lovely coat I bought."

"Looks good on you." He complimented, half-heartedly. Not that earth tones didn't suit the redhead, but something was occupying his sense. Martha took a note of it, knowing her headstrong son all too well.

"What's wrong, kiddo?" She rounded the kitchen island, and poured herself a glass of water. When he didn't respond, she continued. "Is it Stefanie?"

Castle shook his head. "It's Kate." He looked up, and concern immediately filled Martha's eyes. "We met for lunch yesterday. She's back in New York." He paused, a chuckle escaping his mouth. "She's working at the precinct again."

Martha sighed. "And you had to see her, why?"

"Because." He trailed off, his back straight, and full on defensive. "Because I felt…compelled to do so. After all these time I still feel like we didn't get the close we both deserve."

"Ahuh."

"What? It's the truth." Castle countered, though he was still working on believing his own words.

"Right, kiddo. I'm very tired, so I'll be upstairs if you need me."

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

Beckett woke up in the darkness of Lanie's room. She reached for her phone, its blinding brightness seeping into the void. It was a little after ten, and she was feeling a little bit refreshed after the three-hour undisturbed nap. She sat up, and looked back to the day's events while it's still kicking in her mind. Nothing worth a thing. Dead ends. Tom hadn't been in the precinct for the whole day, and the other agents filled her in on his meetings with the Deputy Director every now and then.

The numbers scribbled on the swallowed paper were at last readable:

**87-00000 M Q B, NEW YORK**

But even with the whole precinct working on decoding the meaning, it was still a long shot. It could well be a personal secret code, a locker code, digital representation of words, GPS location, and all the like. And she was going to spend the rest of the night trying to read between the lines. Ryan had spent the whole afternoon with the FBI, cross-checking pretty much anything that had the numbers and words from the paper.

One hour down, and all they figured wa stood for: **M**anhattan, **Q**ueens, **B**ronx. Lanie didn't find any toxins in the sushi residues or the systemic circulation, so COD remained to be asphyxiation.

Beckett heard the ME's light footsteps in the living room. She remembered buying take-out boxes on her way back, and with the persistent growl of her stomach, she leaped out of the bed to get herself something to eat. It had been a long time since she first crashed in Lanie's apartment. She knew she had to take the apartment-hunting mission seriously.

"Lanie, I'm sorry I couldn't find a new place yet." Beckett walked over to Lanie, who was slouched on her back on the couch, flipping pages of the morning paper. "I swear, when this case is over, I'm out of your tail."

Lanie grunted. "Girl, please. I told you: _You're welcome here_. No rush."

Beckett reached for the carton in the island, and crashed beside Lanie. She had yet to tell her about yesterday's lunch. She opened her mouth, and the words caught in her throat. She didn't even know what made it so hard to tell Lanie. But she had never been so distracted at work before. Even when her relationships with Sorensen, Demming or Josh ended, she was still able to keep her focus. Beckett never thought it would be different with Castle.

"Thanks, Lanie." She mumbled, and started devouring her sweet and sour fish fillet. Sure needed five minutes in the microwave, but her hunger couldn't wait.

Lanie closed the papers, and turned sideways so she was face-to-face with Beckett. "Javi might have slipped when he said you're not yourself at work."

She looked up, "What did he mean?" Oh please. She knew exactly what Javier Esposito meant.

"Kate, are you alright, girl? And don't lie to me."

Beckett only sighed, because she couldn't stand lying about her feelings anymore. At least, not to Lanie Parish. "We talked. Yesterday, and…" she trailed off, reliving the vivid details of that lunch. "…he said some things, and I deserved it." His words were stuck on replay in her mind. And she remembered not saying anything back; letting him take out of his baggage on her. "…he's happy. I mean he's…_obviously_ very fond with his new girlfriend." _Fond_. Because 'LOVE' seemed too strong a word. "…we're really over. I mean, I've known for a while, but, after yesterday?" She drew a deep breath, holding back tears. "…we're _officially_ done.

"Oh, Kate." Lanie laid a hand on Beckett's knuckles, squeezing it tightly.

She shook her head, "No, Lanie. This is on me. It's my fault."

Lanie sighed. "I'm sorry, girl."

No matter how hard she tried, tears still fell freely down her cheeks. One promise she broke to herself. This was supposed to be over. She promised not to shed a single tear for Richard Castle ever again. But maybe that wasn't possible in the first place. Castle will forever haunt her. "I'm sorry, too." She whispered into thin air, and set the carton on the coffee table. She had lost her appetite.

"Kate, you listen to me." Lanie nudged her knee with hers, "You're the bravest, strongest woman I know. You'll get through this. Compared to what this…" she paused, and took a moment to put a finger on Beckett's chest, "…had been through? This is nothing but a grain of sand."

Beckett smiled, or what seemed to be an attempt at a smile, because Lanie was right. She survived her mother's murder; she made it through her father's battle with alcoholism, cheated death in more times than one. A breakup shouldn't be so crushing.

But why on Earth, did it feel exactly that?

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

Beckett woke up a little earlier than usual. But not as early as her friend, waking up without Lanie around, but a note that said: **Left for work early**, in a handwriting that proved of doctor stereotypes. After twenty minutes of tidying up after herself, and a kick start of coffee, Beckett reported to her duty, hoping that this day won't be as unproductive as the others.

She walked her way to the precinct so she could stop for a bagel and if she was still feeling dozy, an order of her favorite coffee. Normally, she wouldn't have to worry about her morning doses, with Castle around—oh, _shrug it off, shrug it off. _In no time, she was entering the bullpen, chewing on the pastry, and sipping on her second coffee of the day.

"Hey Beckett, found something on the cases our Vic worked as a lawyer." Ryan eased his way to her, eyeing the bagel in her hand. She rolled her eyes, and spared him a bite. "Jenny and I kind of argued this morning and breakfast didn't sound so great, so, yeah."

Beckett smirked as he nibbled on the piece, and he continued. "So, cases. The FBI cross-checked for common denominators: other lawyers who worked Hudson's cases. It narrowed down to fifteen…"

"Five of which are dead. Murdered," Tom interrupted, his voice husky and rough from who knows why. Ryan stopped relaying information altogether, and let the FBI agent fill the rest. "All of which worked the same case. Finn Taylor case of 2012…"

"Wait, Ryan. That rings a bell." Beckett cut him off, and turned to Ryan, who gave a nod.

"…anyways," Tom pushed, as always, "Finn Taylor was brutally killed on May 3rd last year, and the alleged killer Tabitha Draughty was put to life imprisonment without parole. The lawyers who worked the case, and put her behind bars, were all shot to death in the in the range of seven months. Jed Hudson, the latest Vic."

"Seven months seem to be a recurring theme." Ryan added.

"This could well be a killing spree for revenge." Said Beckett, arms crossed around her waist.

Then Tom added, "Why don't we give Tabitha Draughty a visit?"

Beckett snapped, forgot for a minute that Tom would be her 'partner' in the case. But he's FBI. Even if the 12th was her turf, the FBI was still above NYPD, which made Thomas Krauss her boss. No refusing the big guys in shiny suits.

"Ryan, can you look up the NYPD's relationship with the case? I don't think it's only the lawyers who are in danger, here." Beckett said lowly, before heading off to the state prison with the Special Agent.

Tom had always been well-built. His leather shoes were always polished, his suits always neat, and his hair always kempt. Today he wore a blue tie, which greatly complimented his blue eyes. Now that she thought of it, she hadn't heard Tom say something childish since he arrived in New York. Maybe she just had to see him on the job, not while pestering others in the cafeteria down the Hoover building or in the break room inside the FBI. Nothing of that man-child Special Agent she thought he was.

They rode his SUV, no questions asked. Gates promised her unit by the end of the week, and until then, she was forced to ride-along with the others. The correctional facility was a good fifteen minute-drive from the heart of the city, and that could well be five quiet red lights.

"Detective, I see why you left FBI." Now there goes. She was wrong to think that Tom could keep his thoughts to himself longer than five minutes. First red light.

"Sure you do." Beckett replied, not to mention the unintentional coldness in her voice.

He turned sideways, nodding. "I really do. What I'll give to have good people like those. Detectives Ryan and Esposito? Those kinds of people has your back. You don't get a lot of those back in D.C., you know that." Tom said with a low sigh, and stepped on the accelerator when the light turned green.

And she does. Well, for some, relationships had been forged over long periods of working together. But most who worked for the FBI found it extra hard to trust each other. That's why in the one year she worked there, the only person she considered a 'friend' was Special Agent Lutz, a retiree who reminded her of Captain Montgomery.

"Maybe you're right." Beckett seconded.

He chuckled, "Oh, I am right."

In no time, they were off flashing badges to the personnel at the facility, and were immediately redirected to Tabitha Draughty. The silence of the holding room was almost deafening, with not much around except the on-call guards on the steel doors. The same doors swung opened, and two uniforms brought in a middle-aged Tabitha Draughty, wearing the similar orange jumpsuits, hands cuffed from behind. For her light green eyes, and combed blonde hair, one had to remind themselves twice that this woman bludgeoned a couple way back. Nothing harmless about the angelic face.

"Tabitha Draughty. Made such a noise."

The woman gave a smirk. "What do you need?" She sat on the opposite side of the small table. Tom made the first move. She drew an envelope from her side and flipped it open for Tabitha. Crime scene photos and face shots of the six lawyers, Jed Hudson included. "Recognize any of these men?"

Tabitha let out a chuckle. "Uh-oh, nobody can ever forget these faces."

"That isn't a very good alibi, Tabitha. They all worked your case. They put you behind bars. You're the prime suspect to the murders."

Beckett let Tom do the drill, while Tabitha Draughty opened her mouth to speak, a gut-clenching smirk creeping on her thin lips. "Does it make any difference? I'm already here for the rest of my life. Not that I killed those bastards. I've been here all these time, remember?"

Beckett countered with a straight face. "We know you didn't. We just have to hunt down the people who did. Who did you pay, Tabitha?"

"We're done here. Guards." She called, and the uniforms came back to escort her back to the cells. "Keep your heads up, Detectives. _It's raining bullets outside."_

"Are you threatening us?" Tom asked nonchalantly. The idea of a psychopath threatening someone of rank as him wasn't unfamiliar territory. But he sure as hell didn't like it.

Tabitha Draughty disappeared without saying anything.

"Well, that wasn't much." Beckett said, standing from the steel bench, and joining Tom to the exit.

Tom fished his phone from the side pocket of his suit and dialed his guys at the precinct. "Track down Tabitha Draughty's financials. Her husband's, children's, close associates', you know what to do."

"That's a narrow lead." She mumbled, sarcasm hinting on her voice. Tom turned, giving her a frustrated look.

"The only lead we have, Detective." He grunted, and hopped on to his car, driving back to the 12th precinct.

Thank God for the three traffic lights they passed smoothly. But they hit a red light again, right before Tom made a turn. It seemed like forever for the lights to change. Then when it did, Tom stepped on the gas, and went for the left lane. That's when it all went down. A hail of bullets rained on them, and she felt her chest burn. Her heart stopped at the shots, pulling her back to when she was standing at the podium at Montgomery's funeral. The glass before her shattered, as more bullets were fired.

_"Keep your heads up, Detectives. It's raining bullets outside." _

She didn't remember getting out of the car, but when she regained consciousness, both she and Tom were on the hot pavement, his arms protectively covering her.

The mayhem stopped, eventually, and there was nothing but the debris of the shoot-out, people running here and forth, and Tom's voice slowly bringing her back to life.

"Kate!" he yelled, his hands shaking her shoulders. "Kate, listen to me!"

Beckett snapped, and her eyes focused on his, her whole frame fragile against his broad hands. "You've been shot. Don't panic." But how could she not, when panic is written all over his face? "The ambulance will be here soon."

"Wha-" she croaked, and forced herself to stand. And that's when the pain hit her. Her eyes shifted to the open wound on her arm.

"Still, Detective. _Still_." Tom said; the last thing she caught before her vision went black. Maybe it was the pool of her own blood, or the memory of that day at the podium that made her sick.

_"I love you, Kate." Castle tackled her. She stared into his eyes; looked into the intensity of his emotions. "Please, stay with me. I love you, Kate."_

She could almost feel Castle's arms. Almost.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

**Don't hate me? **

**Thoughts? **

No hate. Just love!

Are you in for a loooooong ride? Because this is just the beginning. Thank you all for following this story. Nothing like waking up to 250+ alerts, 70+ favorites and 100+ reviews. You guys make my day. Nothing like spending my one week break in the fanfiction cloud.

I apologize for the technical errors. I couldn't find anybody to beta-read for me, so if you know one, please do recommend!

**Reviews. Are. Amazing. **

**Do. It. **


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Tenth chapter! Thanks for the support. It's been a fun ride so far. Thanks for the constructive criticisms, and the lovely words of encouragement. I appreciate your thoughts, so keep sending them in. I'd really like to know what you think.**

**Thank you so much for being a part of my awful short summer break I spent writing. Wish me luck on my third year in college. :)**

**So here goes chapter ten. It goes with a boom, or I don't know.**

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

**CHAPTER X**

_So many things that I wish you knew_

_So many walls that I can' break through,_

_I'm dying to know if it's killing you_

_Like it's killing me_

**_Story Of Us, Taylor Swift_**

Two hours till his deadline with Gina. Phew!

Castle hit the send button, and closed his laptop—stretched his arms, and sunk back to his chair. The sun was a full force giant spotlight in the sky, and he glanced at his desk clock: 9:47 AM. It was Stefanie's day off, and she doesn't get off the bed till it's past ten, making up for lost sleep. This morning though, she went for a run, and probably hit her friend's bakery when she didn't return an hour and a half later. A little over nine fifteen, she came back with a bag of croissant and new cartons of orange and blueberry juice, all the while wearing her purple and orange sports bra and yoga pants that had him practicing deep breathing exercises.

Just in time, he caught the smell of brunch lingering from the kitchen. A smile spread on his face. One last memo, though. He reached for his drawer and searched his memo pad. He really should start keeping things to where they belong for easy access. Castle found something of greater value instead. It was the only photograph he kept of Kate Beckett, after he had deleted all of their photo ops from his phone, and sent back the frames she bought. But this one photograph—he must have long forgotten about this one. It was taken from her place, on their third month together, and yes, he remembered every detail of that night. Her left cheek was tightly pressed on to his right, one arm around his shoulder, the other holding the camera in front of them, her mouth stretched into that warm, loving, _Kate Beckett_ smile. Yeah. Too bad. He really thought she was going to be his three-and-done girl. But Stefanie—damn, she's great. _Really_ great.

_"Kate will always be Kate, right, dad?"_ Alexis' words suddenly hit him, and he was quick to shrug it off of his shoulder. His daughter was right. Kate will always be Kate. But Stefanie will _always_ be Stefanie, too. Kate will always be the woman who broke his heart, and Stefanie will always be the woman who mended it.

"Richard, there you are!" Martha, cold sweat trickling down her make-up free face, hurried and stopped by the doorway of his office. The look on her eyes told Castle this wasn't about a shrunken coat from the laundry.

"Mother, what's wrong?" Alexis. The first person that entered his thoughts. Stefanie, the next. "Is Alexis okay? Stef is just in the kitchen, right?" His heart was racing. After all that had happened to him, and lately, to Alexis in Paris, he could no longer afford to take these looks of horror lightly.

Martha shook her head, holding up her phone in the air. "It's Katherine."

He sighed in relief. Wait. No. He shouldn't be relieved! "Wait…what? What happened to Kate?"

"She's been shot, darling."

"What?" His voice went up a notch. "I'll give her a call…" he reached for his phone, only to be cut off by his mother's voice.

"A call? Richard, pay the poor girl a visit!"

He stopped in his tracks, and felt strings of guilt eat away at him. He brought a hand to cover his mouth, his eyes drifting to the picture on his desk. Last year, he'd take a bullet for Kate Beckett. And today, when he learned that she was shot, his best bet was to give her a call? He looked up at Martha. His mother was right.

"She's _alone_. She's _scared_."

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

She clenched her fists. _Hard_.

Beckett knew the shoot-outs weren't going to stop. This was an occupational hazard, or so the lectures from the academy told her so. The shots still rang in her ear, and she remembered falling to the ground, she remembered Tom's voice seeping into her shocked state, she remembered standing up, and feeling the searing pain of the GSW to her arm; she remembered everything. The seconds that led to it, and the moments that came after. Just like she remembered everything on Montgomery's funeral. _Castle tackling her. Castle pouring his heart out to her. _

Tabitha Draughty wasn't kidding when she said it was raining bullets, and both the FBI and NYPD are working extra hard to catch whoever lunatic had showered the streets with gunshots, squeezing information from the convict as she was being stitched up by the plastic surgeon—Dr. Bigelow—she caught him say—every now and then reassuring her of a scar-free healing process.

"…you're done. You're lucky the bullet only grazed your arm and missed your torso. Good for your vital organs." The doctor said, strategically taking off his sterile gloves and tossed them into a rubbish bin. Beckett only nodded, because a smile seemed to be a heavy chore at the moment, in between the PTSD she was possibly having again, and the elating effects of the drugs in her system.

If she hadn't blankly dodged the bullet that wounded her right arm, she could well be in the same position that she was two years ago. And Castle wouldn't be there to catch her.

Oh. Castle. After all these time, it had been one and the same thing. _I almost died, and all I could think about was you. _Her own dialogue haunted her. Only a year ago, she found courage within her to tread to his door, asking for him to take her back. And he did. They were both _powerless_ to resist each other.

The nurses took over, and wrapped her upper arm with gauze. It was a lucky flesh wound. Gates called and gave her the rest of the day off, and the day after if she needed it. Tom, who was even luckier to dodge every single bullet, had the go signal to go back to work. Wow, the odds are certainly not on her favor. It hadn't been a month yet since she came back, and she was already wounded at a shoot-out. If this was the universe's way of telling her to go back to D.C., she was absolutely shrugging it off of her shoulders.

"Kate?"

Beckett looked up. There Castle stood, out of breath, standing by the entrance of the emergency room. He came closer to her side, and Beckett swore she had never felt so relieved. "Castle."

"Kate, are you alright?" Castle hovered, studying each and every dark bruise she earned from being tackled by Tom out of the vehicle for cover with his finger, then to her gauzed arm, caressing the pink spot ever so lightly. She missed him. She missed his touch; and controlling her emotions was a continuing battle made even dreadful with the drugs she was under.

"Don't worry, Castle. It's just a flesh wound." Beckett replied, keeping her cool. And she was glad she did. Because Castle didn't come alone. Stefanie, _not-at-all-pleased_, made her way in. And she had every right to be upset. Ex-girlfriends should stay out of Castle's hair for as long as he was in another relationship. In her hands, were two cups of black coffee from the cafeteria. If she hadn't come any sooner, Beckett wasn't so sure for how long she could contain her feelings. It was an easy shot to throw her good arm around Richard Castle, and tell him all things she wished she had told him on that afternoon in the swings. She wished she could tell him those things and a lot more. But instead, she was left to agonize over the wearing off of the painkillers, and the sight of Castle sharing coffee with another woman.

Because it was never just coffee for them. It was their unspoken _'I love you'_ when they were too afraid to let the words out. Their way of comforting the other in times of tribulations. Their very language in the form of morning kick.

Stefanie casually gave Castle's share, and sipped into hers.

"Detective Beckett, right? We _have_ met." She extended an arm, and Kate took it with her good hand, nodding in affirmation. "Thank God you're alright. Rick was _very_ worried."

Beckett looked at Castle, who gave him a sly smile. It didn't take long before his attention was once again taken by the woman around his arms, so Beckett looked down. But in the corner of her eye, she could still see her arm flung around his shoulder, and his warm smile that was meant to be for her, not to some girl he met very recently. For a moment there, she wondered if he came to make her feel bad. As if being shot wasn't bad enough. Those were brief moments that seemed to intensify the throbbing sore of her muscles and the stitches. It seemed to drag on and on.

Maybe Lanie was wrong. This wasn't a grain of sand.

The pain? It's freaking Mount Everest.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

**_"Beckett's fine."_** Esposito hang up, followed by each and every cop in the room's relieved sigh. But the burning inside him didn't ease a bit. The fact that they almost lost one of their own because of a case got into his nerve. He was certainly not looking forward to sleeping until this all goes to rest. The FBI tracked down the detectives who worked the Finn Taylor case. They found out they were in for something more serious than a double agent's murder. Two detectives had already mysteriously disappeared, one from seven months ago, and the other from three months ago. Kate Beckett could easily be the third; the last detective who put Tabitha Draughty into prison.

"What about us, Espo?" Ryan asked shakily. "We worked the case, too."

"We'll catch this lunatic." Tom added before the other could answer back to Ryan, stoically passing through the door and blending into the sea of suits. Beckett's blood was still on the white shirt underneath his black vest. Esposito made a mental note to fetch an NYPD shirt from the closets. The fact that this sometimes childish, yet awful serious Special Agent they barely knew saved Beckett's life made Ryan and Esposito warm up to Tom. "Got wind from ballistics?"—Tom asked, leaning over the computer, eyebrows furrowed.

"In twenty minutes, sir." The younger FBI answered, eyes fixed on the monitor, keyboard snapping under his fingers.

"Let's go for witnesses, Ryan." Esposito turned away, and went for the elevator. It was a one in a million shot to find a witness in the streets that hadn't fled the scene, but it was a shot worth taking. They hit the streets with their Ford crown victoria, and went straight to the site of the shoot-out, and decided to start with the nearby delis scattered around the streets. _Miller's Buffet_, one signage read, and the one closest to where it all happened. Ryan and Esposito entered the premises, looking past the tall chalk board that said: _Today's Menu: New York Deli Platter_. It was empty, considering that the customers flew out of panic.

The elderly woman behind the counter turned her head to their direction, "How can I help you?" Petite, pear-shaped stature, and strawberry blonde hair tucked behind her head by a bowtie, stern and all business-like.

They flashed their badges, "We need to ask you some questions about what happened earlier. You own the place, ma'am?" Esposito asked politely. The least he can do.

The woman nodded, followed by a small grunt. "Make it fast. We have a lot going on around here."

"Did you notice anything strange happening before the ambush?" Ryan didn't waste any more precious time, and went through with the first question. Routine.

"No, not at all." The woman answered; quick as lightning. "My customers are mostly regulars. Not an unfamiliar face in the crowd today."

"There were two." A voice, small and shy, interrupted. They all looked to the direction of a young waitress—or the apron and trays told them she was a waitress—standing by the far-end of the counter. She was tall, had brown hair tucked by a similar bowtie, dark eyes, and dark circles indicative of sleepless nights, and hard work. "There were two people. They stayed at the corner over there…" she pointed to the last booth by the window, "…didn't order anything."

The detectives shifted their attentions to the younger woman, Esposito holding his notepad, ready for action. "Can you describe them?"

The brunette shook her head, "All I can tell you is that it was a man, and a woman. They were both wearing aviators that covered most of their faces. The guy was wearing some kind of hoodie—_blue_, right." She went on, coming closer to Ryan and Espo. "…had stubble. The girl had long, brown hair. She was wearing a black cap. That's all I know. They left shortly before the mayhem outside began."

"And what time is that?" asked Esposito, clicking his pen.

"Uhm, nine, I think. And the shots began at around nine oh-five."

Ryan nodded, as Esposito took down the information. "Did you see them leave?"

"Yes, I did. I had on eyes on them because I don't like people who come in without buying anything. They crossed the street. And oh, guy was about 6 foot four, and the girl smaller, around 5'6''. Really fit. Anyway, I think I saw them enter that building…" she pointed to the old, 1920's seven story motel. They bet their hats it had a rooftop that made for easy targeting.

"You never saw these people before?" Esposito asked, and the young woman was quick to shake her head.

It was still a long shot. They could well be following an innocent couple staying across the street. But without much to go on, Ryan and Esposito didn't have a choice. They bade farewell with a simple 'thank you' and made their way to the other building. Both felt the weight on their shoulders as they walked out in the open. Because they knew that if Beckett was a target, they could very well be targets, too.

And a badge and a gun wasn't much of an assurance for safety.

Not today.

* * *

**Thoughts? Keep them nice and civil, though. :) Have a good day!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Again, thank you for your support. Your reviews make my day. :)**

**Here goes a ****_mostly_**** Caskett chapter, and a breather of some kind. **

**I hope you like it!**

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

**CHAPTER XI**

**_Can you feel the love tonight? _**

**_You needn't look too far. _**

**_Stealing through the night's uncertainties,_**

**_ Love is where they are._**

** –The Lion King**

"So, Stefanie." Kate paused, mindful of the words to come out of her mouth. "She's great. She's a nice person." Twenty more minutes. The doctor couldn't be damn quicker with those discharge papers. Stefanie had to rush for work just a little earlier, and oh well, Castle sure as hell wanted to leave, too. Nobody, and that included Kate, wanted another awkward fest of meaningless conversation. But he chose to stay, for whatever reason he had, and she couldn't be more grateful.

Castle drew a sharp breath, "Oh, she's a _wonder_." The adjective slipped right on his tongue. He looked into Kate's eyes, and saw hesitation, and _something_ else. "Enough about her…" he smiled, and he does it with his eyes, "How are you? I mean, besides the obvious."

Kate rolled her eyes, his contagious grin getting into her head. "I'm good." And for a moment there, she really was. At least with Castle being there; she really was fine. If this was all it took to have time with him, well, she was happy to be shot. "I don't have a place of my own, so I'm staying with Lanie. She checked on me earlier and made sure I'm all set. She had to report back to the Lab anyway, so…"

"She's a great friend." Was all that he said, because they have both seemed to have lost that innate ability to finish each other's sentences. Kate nodded, and looked away to the half-opened pull-up window, where ambulances and doctors juggled patients in and into the curtained partitions of the emergency room. It wasn't always a pretty sight out here. Well, at least the commotion kept her busy. It almost made up for the growing ice between them.

Finally, the nurse came in and made her sign one more piece of paper, and with instructions on tending the wound, box of creams and a sling around her arm, she was good to go.

"Come here." Castle, always the gentleman she knew, held her by her good arm. She didn't need the support, and they both knew it, and when she was fully on her feet, his hand made its way to the small of her back, the barely there pressure sending chills up her spine. "All good?"

She turned to him, and it was a little too late before she realized she was inches away from him. Inches away from closing the distance between them. _No, Kate. No_—she told herself. "Do me a favor and hail a cab. I'm good."

"What?" Castle protested. "No way, Beckett. Just wait here, and I'll take you to Lanie's." His voice firm, and all manly, Kate could never say no to that. Especially _not_ to that. So she nodded, and watched as he jogged to the nearby parking space. The black Porsche pulled up in front of her, and she got in, before he could get the chance to open-the-door-for-her kind of thing.

"Thanks, Castle."

"_Always._" He ever so casually muttered, before pulling out of the driveway, and into the midday traffic. Little did he know how that one phrase—_their_ phrase—meant a lot to her, or how much it pained her to not be able to close the conversation with her lips pressed on to his. So this time, she answered with a smile. The moments that came after that were all of a big blur. It could very well be the drugs she took shortly before being discharged, or the stress of the day, but she came to rest her head on the side of the door, and nodded off, with her good arm instinctively on the look-out for her shot arm.

Castle checked on her every now and then, until he found her fast asleep in her seat. He wasn't going to lie. With her long, and wavy brown hair all over the place, lips pursed in unease, her eyes clenched in a way that told him she was probably not _that_ asleep yet, and her hands—oh, her hands—small and fragile compared to his, but could well be stronger than two pairs of hands combined, were as beautiful as always, and if he concentrated hard enough, he could still feel her touch lingering against his, rubbing circles around his palm, intertwined with his fingers and all that. He diverted his attention back to the loose traffic. Kate didn't need another accident to make matters worse.

Left with his own thoughts, Castle couldn't help but fall onto that tricky trip down memory lane. He was crazy about Kate. For four years, he followed her around, head over heels hoping that she'd feel the same way about him. And she did, _eventually_. He couldn't have been happier when she showed up at his door, soaked in the rain, and threw herself at him for dear life. It had been a great ride. No, _greater_ than that. One year with Kate Beckett? Best days of his life.

He never quite knew how it all began to crumble. Maybe it was the signs he missed, or the signs he chose not to address, or yet, his out-of-the-blue proposal that marked the end of them.

All these time, he kept the blame to himself. But right now, with Kate right on the passenger seat, he thought, _'Maybe it's not entirely my fault.'_ She was scared. She ran away. She didn't call him—but then again, so did he. He gave his all when he asked her hand for marriage. But she threw it out of the window, and he was left to watch her walls build up around her again.

Four years of scratching and clawing for every inch—_gone_.

One year later, and here they are. The Script's song 'For the First Time' finally made sense. But then again, why does it matter? He was completely over Kate, right? Castle mentally punched himself for ever doubting that. Of course, he was over Kate. _Of course! _

But why didn't he have the guts to leave her on her own? And he was certainly not going to leave her all by herself until Lanie comes back from work. '_She's been shot, and could use a friendly company_—he convinced himself. Right, a friendly company that won't open unwanted doors between them.

Castle almost missed the turn leading to Lanie's building. His brakes screeched, as he made a quick detour, thankful for the lighter traffic in this part of the city, and parked on the side of the street made for the occupants of the apartments. He unbuckled his seat belt, and did the same to Kate's, but even that movement didn't wake her up. And by the way she so peacefully slept; he didn't have the heart to. He did what he thought was best, and got out of his seat, rounding the hood, then to her side, scooped her ever so gently, careful not to put too much pressure on her fresh stitch. He could smell her lavender shampoo despite the stronger reek of blood from her clothes. To have her close—_this close_—felt right in so many wrong ways. Something inside him _stirred_; something he chose to ignore.

Kate, no matter how thin and well, _sexy_, she had always been, wasn't getting any lighter, with her muscle tone and not to mention quarter pounder knee-high boots, so he started treading to the entrance, slowly, and carefully. He nodded to the security guard and the woman in the lobby, before getting the go signal for the elevator. The rumble of the lobby and the loud traffic didn't wake her up, but the low ding of the eerily quiet elevator did.

And there goes another awkward situation. His eyes widened, "Kate…"

"C-Castle, put me…"

"Yeah, I…" he put her feet to the ground as he slowly untangled his hand around her waist. "You were so asleep, I'm sorry."

Kate briefly looked over her shoulder, blood rushing to her cheeks, and she prayed to the Lord above he wouldn't see it. "It's okay, Castle. Thanks for taking me here. You can go now." The words caught in her throat, because it was a complete contrast to the truth. If she could only tell him to stay.

To stay for good.

To come back.

To be where she wanted him to be. And that's in her arms.

To be married to her.

_Whoa, whoa, easy there Kate_.

Damn, these meds were certainly brining out her subconscious. But she asked him to leave instead, because with her unstable state and his relationship, it was the wisest decision available.

"Not a chance. In no time you'll be crashed. I know these meds. I won't leave." He said, and she didn't push.

She didn't want to.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

Two nearby cop cars reported in front of the old motel after Ryan called for immediate back-up, learning that the mysterious pair hadn't checked out yet. But what kind of shooters stick around after the job?

They took the flight of stairs, soundless footsteps reaching the room.

Esposito rapped on the door.

"Who is it?" a grown man's voice answered back.

Their guns in position, Esposito shouted back. "NYPD!"

Nothing.

Then heavy footsteps.

Tossing—the absolute red flag they needed to bust the door open. Blue hoodie on the floor, and a man flying out of the window. Quick to act on his thoughts, Ryan followed him down to the rusty fire escape, while Esposito ran to cover the ground floor, alerting the others about the target.

"We got a suspect on the loose. Man in a black shirt. I repeat, man in a black shirt!" he called out to his radio, running as fast as his feet could take, rounding the building and hoping to corner the runaway.

By the time he got there, Ryan had already taken care of it; his whole weight on the guy's torso pressed tightly on the hot pavement. It didn't take an ME to know he had been close to firing a gun by the reek of gunpowder off his clothes. Esposito rushed to his partner's assistance as they held the suspect to his feet, a hard grip on both shoulders.

"You should've known better than run, boy."

Nothing but a smirk.

"If you shot our friend, you sure as hell are going to pay for it, _bastard_."

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

Castle didn't even know what he was doing there. Sure, he was helping an _old friend_. But he knew better than to kid himself that this wasn't about some other things. He still felt butterflies every time his eyes locked with hers; still felt the electricity linger on his skin when their hands touched. And every time, he had to remind himself he was over _this_; over _her_. And this was nothing but some kind of domestic and friendly assistance.

Kate had been fast asleep after she changed—with a lot of struggle because she didn't let him help—and been buried deep in the covers for two hours now. She had never been such a heavy sleeper. Usually the light bustle of the traffic would wake her. But then maybe it was the painkillers keeping that kept her down. In an hour and a half, Lanie will be back. And there goes another set of questions—will it be okay to come and visit tomorrow? Will Stefanie be okay? She would understand, right?

Then his phone rang, followed by a thirty-second ringtone version of Eye of the Tiger. The tune broke the silence of the apartment; loud enough to disturb somebody's much needed rest. Castle fished his phone from his pocket, and his eyes focused on the caller ID: Stefanie. He immediately felt his heart sink. Never mind what would come after, he ran a finger through the screen, and held the device over his ear.

**"Rick, where are you?"** her voice wasn't close to pleased, but phone conversations weren't a hundred percent reliable, so he shrugged it off.

"Hi, babe. I uh," he trailed off, not quite decided between telling the truth and telling a lie. _Truth, Richard. Truth_. "I'm at Lanie's. Remember her?"

**"Oh, sure I do. Rick…"** even then he could hear the indifference in her voice. "…are you with Detective Beckett?"

"Yes, I am. Look, I couldn't leave her; at least not like this. With all that's happened I think she could use a little assistance until Lanie comes back. I promise I'll leave when she gets back." He pleaded, hoping his answer didn't sound so defensive.

He heard her sigh. Castle felt awful. **"Yeah, I know. So, how is she, anyway?"**

"She's been asleep for the past two hours now."

**"Good, good."** She answered, **"Be back soon, okay?"**

"I will."

**"Okay. I love you."**

He smiled, and he felt her smile from the other end of the line. "I love you, too."

Castle hang up, a grin wide on his features. That's when a soft laugh broke the growing silence of the living room. He snapped to the direction of the sound, and found Kate by the doorway of Lanie's bedroom, her bad arm hanging free on her side. She ran her fingers through her scalp, her lips pursed into a carefree smile.

"You really do love her, huh?" she asked, her voice pitted against held-back laughter. He froze at her words, and could only watch as she took the seat beside him. "W-ooow."

"Kate, I…"

"Sssh..." Kate held a finger, and held it close to his lip, effectively shutting him up. Her eyes were fixed on his, and he couldn't deny how much she missed them. Green, and warm, and irresistible, like she always had been. "Let me talk, _Rick_."

Oh, right. Castle relaxed a bit, realizing it was the medicine talking. But whoa—he shouldn't be relaxed. With Kate's inhibitions on the low, he was in for a long ride down _that_ road. "Kate, you're not yourself. Come, let's get you back to…"

"Caaasssttleeeee..." she cried out, her good arm pushing him away. "Li-sten."

He backed down, and slouched on his seat, his eyes focused on hers, watching intently as she started to speak. "Do you know why I came back to New York?" He shook his head, and let her do all the talking. "Because I missed being here. I missed working with the boys, I missed Lanie, I missed Perlmutter…" she chuckled at that, "And, I missed _you_. Well, mostly you."

His breath caught in his windpipe.

"And I…" she trailed off, her back straight, and a fit of laugh escaped her, "I was very, very stupid to think that everything will be the same. Nothing is ever the same. You're happy. And I am _happy_ for you. But I'll never be happy for me."

"Kate…" he tried to stop her, but something inside him wanted to know all the things Detective Kate Beckett kept buried within her. She shushed him, rogue tears falling down her bruised cheeks.

"Let me finish." She looked at him, "I don't believe you. How could you be in a relationship, Castle? How could you…" she hesitated, tears pooling and freely flowing. He did what he does best and wiped her tears with his finger, calming her down with his soft touch. Kate pressed her cheek against his palm, and he felt that longing she kept inside; longing that made his heart ache, because he may not be ready to admit it to himself, but he sure as hell, in some way, he longed for her, too. She looked up, "…how could you forget so fast? I…I…regret running away. I should've said yes. And I am selfish to be saying all these, but I've got nothing to lose, right?" another pause, this time she looked away. "Not anymore."

He blinked, not quite believing the words she threw at him. But she was determined not to hold back—or the meds were making her so determined not to hold back. And, as if that wasn't enough for him to question all that was and is to become, she added, "_I still love you, Castle_." Her voice soft, though like a dagger plunged deep into his heart. "I do."

His mouth went dry, and at a great loss for words.

Then, as if her words didn't mean a thing, Kate laughed. "I'm not going to remember any of this in the morning, am I?"

He smiled along, doing a great job at hiding the roller coaster of emotions running through his head. "Probably not." He choked out, keeping it all to himself.

As moments in silence passed, the medicines lulled her back to slumber. Castle took it as his cue to take her good hand and lead her back to the bed. Her back felt small against his broad chest, and his hands were on the look-out for her balance. She lay down on the mattress, eyes clenched close in less than a minute. Just like old times. He carefully placed a pillow under her head, and covered her fragile frame with the sheets.

Once again left with his thoughts, he couldn't help but ponder on the things she had just said. Did he really move on that fast? Did she really come back for him? God, he imagined what it must've felt like when she returned, realizing he wasn't hers to claim anymore.

Did she mean what she just said?

He looked away. Convinced she was all wrapped up in good sleep, he walked the small steps back to the living room. A half an hour later, he was still dumbfounded.

Did she _really_ mean that?

* * *

**Thoughts? Please let me know what'ya think! Suggestions are very welcome :)**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: **Oh dearies! (OUAT reference, yes. I'm a big fan of that show, too) Thank you thank you for the wonderful feedbacks! Really helped with the first day of class jitters.

I've been reading Richard Castle's HEAT RISES and it got me really thinking. It's a very good read, even more painful when you watch the show.

Again, thank you for the support and I hope you like this chapter. It's kind of my way of helping you see how I see Thomas Krauss. Yes, in my mind, Chris Pine.

One more thing! If you wish to have a playlist companion to this fanfic, I strongly recommend the songs I quote in the beginning of the chapters. Good songs. Painful songs.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

**CHAPTER XII**

_I still feel the hope in your kisses_

_I still feel the sun on your skin_

_I swear I was holdin' forever back then_

_Do you remember?_

_Do you remember?_

**Do You Remember, Blake Shelton**

His heart didn't stop racing long after he got out of the paramedic van. Tom was lucky to get only shallow scratches from the shattered glass when the bullets hit. He liked to think Kate got lucky, too; despite the bullet that pierced her arm. CSU's official shot count rounded up to thirty. Thirty bullets they had both so blindly dodged. Trajectory confirmed it came from the rooftop from an old motel building across the street. Security cameras were turned off—as expected—the moments leading to, and after the shoot-out. The guy from the motel, Michael Andreas, ID'd positive by the waitress on the other side of the street, didn't give him much hope. Not that he depended on hope. Tom was trained to depend on his training at the FBI, his sniper skills from the military, and his brilliant mind. But when you're stuck in the middle of an ambush, tactical training, sniper skills and brilliant mind almost always came second to a human instinct—hope; hope to survive this ordeal and make it another day.

The Medical Examiner confirmed presence of gunpowder on the shooter's blue hoodie, and two rifles were found stacked in the closet, the other rifle full of Andreas' fingerprints, the other completely cleaned. It almost felt like it was all but a freaky stage show, and it infuriated him more than any other.

Night fell, and he stood by the vanity mirror of his hotel room, his torso bare, taking in the long scratch than ran through his collar bone up across his shoulder. This one was old as time. The scar that made him the man he turned to be. His face had smaller red spots, and Tom traced each one of it with his finger. He drew a deep breath, the soreness of his muscles winning him over; the day's stress pulling him to bed.

But it wasn't so much the physical pain that wore him down. It was the realization that he almost lost the woman he never had in the first place. He'd be lying if he said he didn't perform a background check on Kate Beckett when she first worked for the FBI. Her mother's murder struck him most, because he lost his father the same day he got the big ugly scar. He found out about the writer who shadowed her for five years, and to hell with research. His instincts told him she had been in a relationship with the writer, and her heart never left New York. But he fell _in love_ with her, nevertheless.

Then came the knock he expected. He threw a clean shirt over his head, and rushed to the door, peeking through the small hole, just to be sure. He held his gun close to his side, ready for any surprises. At ease with what he saw, Tom unlatched the locks and turned the knob.

"What the hell?" the woman swooped in, in an aura that intimidated even the sharpest FBI agents in town. But not Tom. Tonight wasn't about intimidation. It was about betrayal. She was about 5 foot and a half tall, brown hair tucked underneath a baseball cap, green eyes partially screened by tinted aviators. "You know big boss isn't so happy with what you did, Krauss."

"I'm not very pleased at the Boss, too." He looked to the direction of the logo on her leather jacket; an eagle with its wings spread on both sides.

"This is not a joke." She kept a straight face. Tom didn't spare her a smile.

"To hell with that." Tom shot back, "What was that all about, huh? That wasn't part of the plan, E. We almost died in there!"

"Oh, boo, boo," the woman teased, in a way that got Tom's blood to boiling point. "Don't be such a baby, Krauss. You know very well the boss won't kill you. Not you, at least."

"No, no…" Tom walked ahead of her and held her by the shoulder. A gesture she was quick to shrug off. "Kate Beckett will not be harmed, you understand?"

The woman's face only stiffened. Tom could see flames of hatred from her calm, green iris. "I'm afraid it's not up to you to decide, Krauss."

Tom wasn't the kind of man to get physical on a woman, and guilt ate away at him when she hit her hip on the edge of the table when he shoved her back to the hallway. "In that case, I am out, E. Tell that to your boss. Katherine Beckett is under my protection." He paused, letting his words sink in on both of them. "You hear that?"

The woman gave a sly smirk. A smirk that told him he wasn't going to be safe from this day on. "Message sent, Krauss."

He'd take a bullet for Kate Beckett. He knew how stupid of a move it was to protect someone who didn't even see him as a person besides the FBI agent part of him. But if it had to be his last stand, he'd be pleased to do just that.

Tom shut the door in front of him, counting the days—if not hours—he had to live.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

Castle couldn't tell how long he had been sitting at her feet, watching her as she slept through the medication. He couldn't keep his mind off of the things she said, doubting the decisions he had made in her absence. Kate came back for him. She thought she had a relationship to come home to, and Castle didn't blame her—didn't regard her as selfish. He would've thought the same if the circumstances were different. To hell with circumstances. He would've thrown himself at her the moment she got off of the plane from D.C. The old Castle would have still chased her, no matter what. But there was something inside him that tugged him back. Of course, it was his new and refreshing relationship with the woman who meant the world to him. Stefanie's this, and that, and all jazz. But Kate; Kate and her big, green eyes, Kate and her soft, soft, brown locks, Kate and her beautiful smile, Kate and her fat heart, Kate and…**NO**. Stefanie. He should be thinking of Stefanie.

The doors unlocked—about time Lanie came home. The smell of garlic chicken filled the room, and he followed the aroma to the living area. Lanie gave him a glance, before pulling out one carton of chicken from the bag. "You're still here, Castle?" she asked, surprise imminent on her features. "I'm sorry, I didn't buy extra dinner."

He mimicked a sad kid face, earning a glare from Lanie.

"Well, seriously, writer. You're still here." Lanie repeated, this time, a little more serious than the last.

"I thought Beckett could use company; she's napping in the room. Temperature's fine, and the stitches look OK." He replied, avoiding the question hidden in subtext.

Lanie sighed. "Castle, with all that's been going on—and I don't mean the shooting—the last thing that poor girl could use is false hope. I know you care for her; I do." She inched closer, and looked at him straight in the eye. "Don't tell Kate I told you this. She's hurt. She's been crying a river over the things she lost when she decided to take the job she didn't get to love."

Castle opened his mouth to say something, only to be cut off again. "—I'm just saying, I know she hurt you. But you turned out alright with that new girl of yours…" she hinted sarcasm, and hoped Castle missed it, then continued, "I'm saying she broke her heart. And unless you _want_ her back, having you around won't help her move on."

He let the weight of Lanie's words sink in. It pained him more than anything, to learn how much pain he caused her. Castle wanted her to be happy. Kate broke his heart when she turned him down, but he never wanted for her to be as miserable as she made him.

And Lanie was right. If he really wanted Kate to move on, he'd have to stay away.

"I'm sorry, Castle." She said, a little softer now.

"No, I, I think you're right, Lanie." He nodded, and grabbed his coat that flopped on the kitchen island. He hugged Lanie goodbye, and she hugged him back, then he motioned to the front door. "Tell her I'd be up at The Hamptons for a few days."

"I will, Castle. Have fun out there."

Fun? Good luck with that fun after learning that the woman he'd been in love with was still in love with him. He had a box of video games to distract him; but then that would just remind him of Kate, and the way she seduced him into getting his hands off of the console. He could always write. And channel surf.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

If he stared long enough at the white board, maybe something will speak to him. The FBI toys didn't work for him. Esposito always preferred old school; traditional. Sometimes, when the bullpen was quiet, and he focused enough, he could almost see the pieces of a big puzzle fit. But not right now. The pieces weren't ready yet. There were still a lot of missing pieces to find.

"Hey, bro…" he called out to Ryan, idle with a cup of coffee at his desk. He soon heard footsteps coming his way. "Where did Jed Hudson work as a lawyer?"

Ryan flipped through the case file ad ran his finger on the paper. "Tollen and Tollen. Why? We already interrogated the employees. Most suits didn't even talk to the guy. Said 'he kept to himself' and 'good with his job', nothing out of the ordinary."

"And the four other?"

"Tollen and Tollen, too. Same as Hudson." Ryan pointed. "No connection other than the Finn Taylor case—the only case the five all worked on. So ten bucks says Tabitha Draughty has something to do with the deaths—lawyers and detectives. And the shoot-out too, I bet."

"FBI's still running financials. She could have paid someone to do the job. Draughty has what—a dozen bank accounts, not including the close kin."

"Javi, let's call it a night. We'll get on it in the morning."

He shook his head. The woman from the shoot-out was yet to be identified. Connections were all but a blur. Beckett was injured. Their own lives could very well be in danger. Sleep was the last thing that came into his mind.

"You go ahead, bro. Think I'll stay for a bit."

Ryan nodded. He knew better then to test the soldier in Esposito. He, on the other hand, was more than happy to close the day with his wife and baby boy.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

"Hey, don't you have vacation days left?" Castle asked Stefanie, who was snuggled close into his chest, one arm across his waist. Her hair gave off a hint of vanilla, refreshing as always.

She looked up, confusion written in her eyes. "Yeah, why?"

"I was thinking…" More like he thought of it when Lanie told him all those things about Kate, "…I was thinking we could go to The Hamptons. Maybe I'd get an inspiration for a new novel."

"Hmm," she sat up, cross-legged beside him. "I think I can make a call. When do we leave, though?"

"Tomorrow?" Castle answered in haste, taking Stefanie by surprise. But she only smiled and nodded. He smiled along, took the baseball cap that had been sitting on the coffee table, and set it on her head. "Looks good on you."

She smirked. "Yeah, well. You have a great taste. That's why I love you."

Castle opened his mouth to return the words, but it ended up lodged deep in his throat. For the first time in their relationship, he hesitated telling the magic words. Stefanie eyed him, hinting at his hesitation. So Castle leaned forward, and closed the distance between their lips, hoping to act on the words at the tip of his tongue. It turned to a heated kiss, and only pulled apart when air became of need. And, just like oil to a machine, he said,

"I love you."

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

Thoughts? I hope you don't hate me after this, though?

So, my classes are back. I know, it sucks. That means I'll have less time for writing chapters. I'll do my best to keep you on track, but I can't promise quicker updates.

Send me in suggestions.

Reviews! The support is amazing, guys. I love you so freaking much!


	13. Chapter 13

**CHAPTER XIII**

****_This is me swallowing my pride,_

_Standing in front of you,_

_Saying I'm sorry for that night._

_And I go back to December all the time_

**_Back to December, Taylor Swift_**

Three days of nothing.

Three days of watching her phone like a hawk.

Three days since she last saw him. Kate certainly thought he'd be there in the morning. Well, the Castle she knew would certainly be there in the morning.

Like he'd always been.

She remembered that time when she was shot at Montgomery's funeral. Wow, he really scared her. In between her battle for life and taking in the words he poured on her, well, that was all it took for the scared little girl inside her to stop her from communicating with him. And it wasn't just for three long days. She didn't call him for three freaking months. If this his way of getting some kind of comeback—not that Castle would do that to anyone—he was doing quite a great job at it.

And he went up to The Hamptons with the new girlfriend she can't seem to like. No matter how sweet she seemed.

Maybe it was her cop sense.

Maybe it was the fact that she was jealous, regardless of how out of place she knew she was.

So Kate changed into her cop clothes and walked her way to the precinct, not being able to take the long days stuck in a closed space. Walking always gave her time. Enough time to choose her words she was going to definitely need in convincing Gates and enough time to ponder on the words she had just said to Castle. He left thinking she was on heavy medications. She let him leave not knowing she was a hundred percent sober at the time; or seventy five percent. Whatever the case, she knew what she was doing.

Kate knew the implications.

Kate knew it would certainly open closed doors.

Her feet took her to the precinct, much like an innate instinct when going home from school as a kid. The 'Convincing Gates' part wasn't an easy bet, but her skip retaliated when Kate didn't back down, but delegated her to desk work. Something she can agree on.

"You doing alright?" Ryan and Esposito protectively hovered. "We can always fill you in on what's happening without you actually leaving the apartment."

Kate briefly smiled before going over the new elements on her desk—finally her own—before her eyes darted to the stagnant murder board. "I appreciate the sentiment guys, but I might get cabin fever if I don't leave the apartment. So, anything so far?"

"The other shooter's still at large. The one we caught wouldn't give a description. Wouldn't even listen to compensation." Esposito shifted to being Javier the friend to Esposito the detective.

Then Ryan stepped up, "But we found something. All the lawyers used to work at Tollen and Tollen. We looked into the history of the firm—see if they made someone really pissed in the past—and wait for it…" Yep. Ryan and his fondness of thrillers, "…Tollen and Tollen was originally Draughty and Tollen Law Firm. All of the old laywers were kicked out, except for the Big 5 here." He paused, and pointed his pen to the photos of the lawyers recently killed.

"All evidence point out to the Draughty's." Beckett exclaimed frustration officially winning her over.

"Not concrete enough to convict, that is. It's all theories." Esposito countered. He was right. "We're looking into Draughty's finances. Nothing there."

"Okay let's keep digging. There's got to be some connection there. There has to be." Kate mumbled, absent-mindedly clicking her pen, again and again. Damn. Three days of thinking about him, and she wasn't even close to done yet. The others dispersed, and her eyes wandered the bullpen, where uniforms and suits blended inharmoniously. Speaking of suits, "Where's Agent Krauss?"

Esposito turned, "Hmm, D.C."

Again? What could possibly so urgent that couldn't be relayed over the phone? Two flights in a week? Kate chose to shrug it off. Not her business, anyway. Not anymore. And for the fifth time within the hour, her hands itched for her phone; her heart ached for his voice, and the whole of Richard Castle.

Kate needed to get it over with. She fished the device from her pant pocket, and hit 'redial'. She pictured his phone buried deep in the sheets unattended. At this time of day they could be out fishing, or looking out into the ocean at his backyard. Things they used to do. Together. After six rings, the call went into voicemail, and his 'You reached Caaaa-stleee; leave a message. Or not. Beep!' replaced the steady rings. His childishness painted a smile on her face—the first today.

Kate took a deep breath, and sunk back to her chair, "It's me." She blurted, hoping he'd recognize her voice. How could he not? She continued, "Listen, I haven't officially thanked you for staying with me the other, other day. I just want you to know, I meant what I said. _All_ of it." She sighed, holding out her emotions and set them aside for person to person interaction, "…if you wish to talk, maybe you can call back. If not," no, she couldn't afford that, "Just…call me back."

Just as she put the call to an end, the elevator doors opened, and it was an entrance that won't be forgotten in a long, long time. Castle rushed to the bullpen, wearing a shirt that was soaked in sweat and blood. Her heart dropped to the floor as panic kicked in. Kate hoped the sweat was his, but not the blood. He was panic-stricken. His eyes darted to the direction of her desk, where she stood, frozen. Kate had never seen him so distraught. Not since the incident with Alexis.

"Castle, what's wrong?" She finally had the will to meet him halfway. He couldn't focus. His hands were cold against hers. "Castle, look at me!" He did. His blue eyes were clouded with fear. "Is it Alexis? What happened?"

"It's Stefanie…" the words came out slurred, barely enough to be understood.

"OK, Castle, sit down. Take a breath." She led him to her arm chair, as Esposito and Ryan rushed with a glass of water. "Tell us what happened to Stefanie." He took a large gulp from the glass, and breathed in and out, until the rhythm of his chest went back to normal.

"We were about to go up to The Hamptons. We stopped by some gasoline at 34th when these black SUVs pulled up behind us. They just took her." He closed his eyes at the memory, "I tried to pull a fight. I did. But I was outnumbered." He explained, his jaw clenched in pain. "Which is why I got this nasty cut." A jagged the size of a 12 cm ruler ran through his forearm. A lucky, shallow wound.

"We'll get somebody to attend to that." Ryan motioned to his desk and picked up his telephone.

"I'm fine." Said Castle, "I didn't get the plates. The men were wearing glasses but I think I got a good description of the one guy I hit. Damn it, we should've gone yesterday. Or the day before that. Now she's…"

"Hey Castle, Stefanie's a lawyer, right?" Esposito interrupted, now slouched over his monitor, scrolling through Tollen and Tollen's web page. Stefanie was definitely one of the present lawyers. Her connection with any of the case were a big blur, but it was a connection, nevertheless. "Did she say anything about work?"

"No, no. She took the week off. And she loves her work. Is this…" he stood, "Is she related to the case?"

"Five lawyers have been killed in the past seven months, Castle." Kate filled him in slowly, careful not to break his already messed up state. "All of which used to work at Tollen's. The same firm Stefanie works."

"Oh, god." He gasped, his heartbeat racing again.

Kate's heart sank. She wasn't used to watching him like this. He always played the happy and bubbly card. Kate reached out to him with her good arm, her hand on his cheekbone, forcing him to focus on her. Because no; she couldn't watch him fall to pieces. No matter the consequence, she had to make him whole again. "Listen, Castle. We're not going to let anything happen to her. You know we can do this. Right, boys?" she looked over her shoulder, determined glances coming their way. "You know we can, Castle. We'll get her back, alright?"

He relaxed at her touch. Yes, she still had that effect on him.

_But no, Rick_. That's not the bigger picture right now.

He swallowed—and hard, before cupping her hand with his, pressed tightly against his cheek.

"I'm going to get her back, okay?" _For you_. And for some reason, she chose not to let that out. _I'd do anything for you._

"Thanks, Kate." He replied, a tear sliding off of his dust and grime-covered cheek.

"_Always_."

Their eyes locked for a long time, reaching into each other's depth and taking in each other's wholeness. And his phone beeped. For reasons she could blame the service provider very soon, her message had just gone in. Kate's heart quickened as she watched him take his phone out of his pocket, his features changing as he read the ID.

_Oh no. Oh no, no, no_—she thought. Not the right time for that.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

**"I hear the FBI has bailed on us, Eagle Eye. Is any of that true?" **

"Yes," voice shaking. "It's true, boss. He's for no good. He's sworn to protect the Detective for some reason I don't understand. What do you want me to do?"

**"Well, you still seek justice, right?"**

"I do. More than anything. If that means I go to prison in exchange for their lives, I will. I don't care."

**"If that is where you stand, I won't stop you, Eagle. You've come so far; down to the last two persons behind your mother's wrongful conviction."**

"Down to the last two persons, boss."

**"Very well. Make it happen. Have your taste of justice."**

"That, I will."

* * *

A/N: Hi! I apologize for the delayed update and this short chapter. I'll make it up to you, I promise. School is here again and it's driving me mad.

Anyways, thank you for those who sent in their insights. I agree with you. Let's get some more Caskett times, even if that means 'painful' Caskett times. And please, do hang on! We're nearing the end of the case, and I know you have a lot of speculations about who the woman is. We're going to find out soon :)

Thank you thank you for the love :)

Nothing brightens up my day more than waking up to your lovely insights.

I hope you liked this chapter.

Let me know what you think!


	14. Chapter 14

**{CHAPTER XIV}**

_I know I don't tell you nearly enough, _

_but I couldn't live one day _

_without your love_**. **

**-Kenny Chesney**

Then came the longest, most dragging moments in the history of the longest, most dragging moments, topped with a wave of quickening heartbeat, and a cold shiver making its way up her spine. Castle briefly looked at her, confusion drawing in his features. Because they both knew what it was all about. She certainly wouldn't be calling for anything else other than the very obvious subject. It was a bit of a spur-of-the-moment decision when she turned her back on him, dragging herself to safety of cop land, where she was known to be the stable and straightforward Detective Beckett, then immediately regretting it.

_You certainly didn't need to run, Kate_—the little voice inside her told her.

Then the scaredy conscience advised: _No, how were you supposed to tell him, anyway? I love you and please break up with your girlfriend?_

Kate shrugged, and drew a big ass breath in an attempt to calm her insides. "OK, what do we know about a Stefanie Patrick?" she said, giving the scrawny FBI dude a sideways glance. He obediently tapped on the keyboard—fast as lightning—and information piled up, record by record. The others, including Castle, swarmed around the wide screen, eyes hungry for some kind of clue.

To their frustration, there was none.

Then scrawny guy began narrating the information out of habit. It went on from Bio-Data, then to Education, which was beyond impressive, having graduated from Harvard Law, ranked no. 5 at the licensure examinations. No criminal record but a record of reckless driving when she was sixteen. Clean, and ordinary, and shouldn't be involved in something like this.

Another dead end.

Kate shook her head. "Ok." She huffed out, "Let's try our luck on those security cameras from the gas station. Maybe we can pull some plates."

Esposito delegated himself for the task.

"Ryan, can we pull family records? See if she contacted anyone in the past few days." She added, frustrated at being cuffed to desk work. She knew very well she was more useful in the field. And besides, paper work, and long hours of sitting on her bum in front of the computer wasn't her thing. But then she sees him. His pain; and the fact that he didn't pay much attention to her message—okay—she knew she had to stay. Kate had to do this. She couldn't afford letting Stefanie Patrick be one of the people on Lanie's cold autopsy table. This was too close to home, even for her.

Too cherished by the only man she was certain she truly loved. It was true what they said: _If you love someone, you should set them free._

It was a heck of a painful truth, to be honest.

Kate squared her shoulders, and tried focusing on the work at hand. She could always box her feelings for later. Castle stood still by her side, his eyes glued to the photograph flashed on the screen: a company photo of Stefanie. Brown hair fixed in a neat, corporate bun, mouth perched into a wide smile, eyes depicting intelligence, fun, and simplicity. Kate took a moment to realize that Stefanie was really good for Castle. She knew that already, but learning her history made her see that Stefanie was Kate, minus the complexity and baggage, and the danger that can never leave him when she's around.

"Kate?" Castle tore through her thoughts. She turned; frozen at the roughness of his voice, and at the depths of his blue eyes. "I just…" he lifted his phone to the air. And there she thought he didn't care about it. "…the call."

Kate knew there was no use in lying. He'd find out, anyway. So she took a deep breath, and gave him a small nod, her eyes fixed to his and only his, hoping it'd speak the words she couldn't say at the moment.

Silence took over. They both didn't know what to do or say. They didn't know what it all meant for them. But they didn't leave either; comforted by each other's mere presence.

Then, Kate cleared her throat, and took the lead to the break room, which was fortunately empty. She couldn't have that conversation with scrawny guy eavesdropping on them. Castle closed the door behind her, his arm still yet to be stitched. If the doctor didn't come in ten minutes, she'd personally take him to the hospital. She couldn't take any chances on that nasty cut. Her eyes shifted to Castle, now uncomfortable standing by the coffee machine.

"Castle, I meant it when I said I mean it. And this is a terrible timing, but I'm not going to lie to you. Not again." Because the last time she did, it marked the doom of their relationship. Her hand rested on her hip as she waited for him to say something.

"Kate…" he began, in a tone she knew all too well—not good.

So she went on, "I know," a forced smile spread across her face. "I know she's great. She's good for you. And we shouldn't be wasting our time talking about this."

"All this time…" he trailed off, his voice cracking from the past few minutes' wave of stress. "You…"

All Kate had to do was nod, depriving her emotions some kind of escape. But she had to say it anyway. No matter how untimely, no matter how hard it could be. "I never stopped, Castle. And yes, I regret every single thing I did on the swings. I was scared." She chuckled, "And maybe I got used to you pulling my pigtails that I thought…" Kate paused, her gaze shifting to the white wall behind him, "…I thought you'd be there when I'm not so scared anymore."

He stiffened at her revelation. Sure, she said it already. But he thought she was on heavy medications, and then she turned out to be sober enough to know what she said to him, and now this. No medications, no alcohol. Just plain and honest Kate Beckett.

When she didn't reply, Kate went pensive. "But it doesn't matter. And I've got a case to solve."

"No, just…" he grabbed her by the arm when she tried to leave, and gently slid it on the length of her shoulder. The feel of her skin against his palm was almost intoxicating. It must have been what alcoholics feel when they take one, harmless shot of wine after a year without it. He felt her relax on his touch; little did he know, she'd pay the world for that. Castle released his grip, and let his gaze fall to the floor. "Kate..."

She caught his hand before it hit his leg, squeezed it gently, before making her way to the ladies' room.

Kate couldn't wait until later to box her feelings and reel them in.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

Ryan drove him to the nearest hospital when the team he called didn't make it. Kate came out of the ladies' room a little five minutes later, an extra layer of concealer patched on the red circles around her eyes. She could try and hide it to everyone, but certainly not him. Normally, she'd have gone with him to hospital trips like these.

But then, what was normal? Nothing was ever normal anymore. It proves that so much could change in a year.

He couldn't help but wonder if she had taken another trip to the ladies room. Castle never wanted to see her like this, and somehow, he felt like he was partially at fault in her misery. _No, no. She turned you down. That's what people do. You move on, you get on with your life_—he told himself.

Castle clenched his jaw at the pinch of the anaesthesia, while Ryan sat close behind, making calls and checking his phone for new e-mails about the case. "Hey, you can go now. I can handle this."

Ryan snapped to his direction, "Not a chance, bro."

"I'm just slowing you down, Ryan." Castle insisted. "And the precinct's a good ten minute cab trip away."

"No, really. You're not slowing me down." Ryan shot back, his eyes telling him he knew something, but chose to be discreet enough not to talk about it. Castle missed working with him and Esposito. Well, mostly their meaningless bickers, but the point was, he missed all of them. And he missed Kate. After all that she said, he realized how much had changed in a span of a year, and he was still working on trying to come to terms with it.

The thread started to make its way in and out of his torn flesh, the grimacing sight enough to make someone queasy. Thanks to the anaesthesia, he could feel a thing.

In an attempt for a distraction, Castle turned to face Ryan, "How's it been in the precinct?"

"You mean, how's Kate been, right?" Ryan cut straight to the chase.

Castle sighed. "You're still my friend right?" he said, his voice barely above whisper. "Kate told me that she…"

"Oh. Okay." He interrupted, his mouth curved into a knowing smirk. "You want to know what I think?" Castle nodded, and intently waited for more, "I think she's trying. She's trying to move on, Castle. We've seen her, you know? But at the same time, she's torn because there's a sliver of hope left inside her that wants to fix things. But she's Kate. We all know what she's capable of when it comes to the people she cares about."

Castle's gaze dropped to the floor. Yes, he knew exactly what Kate was capable of when it comes to the people she loved.

"Kate knows you're happy. She's okay with that. But she didn't need to say the words to let me know she wants to be the one that makes you happy." Ryan said, then went back to his phone business, as if being Dr. Love was no big deal. Then he peeked out of the device, "…and she's doing all she can to find your girl. If that's not dedication and love, I don't know what that is."

No.

He was supposed to be over this.

He was supposed to be over her.

He was supposed to be focused on getting Stefanie back, not trying to reconcile with his roller coaster of emotions.

* * *

_Hey there. I hoped you liked this chapter! I thought we could use some break from all that crime part. Let's get on with the Caskett part of this story. Thank you for flooding the reviews section with suggestion and lovely insights. I really appreciate it!_

_I left my laptop in the dorm and it's not the same thing working on my mom's laptop, that's why the updates have been damn slow lately. _

_Anyways, please please let me know what you think!_


	15. Chapter 15

Hey guys! So we're near the end of the story, and it's been a hell of a wonderful journey!

I have to let you know that this story will only concern one plot (read summary). I know all of you want to see Caskett's relationship recover from all the hoolas, and that's why I decided on a sequel. That way, the stories will stick to their respective prognoses.

I hope you'll all carry on for the sequel!

As for now, here's chapter fifteen.

**{CHAPTER XV}**

_I didn't want us to burn out_

_I didn't come here to hold you, now I can't stop_

**Already Gone, Kelly Clarkson**

Kate should be getting more sleep. But in between the memories of being in the middle of an ambush, and the sudden twist of fate in Castle's relationship, she found herself sitting by the window seat of Lanie's room, looking out into the ever busy traffic, finding some sort of relief in watching the world she was in from above, a warm cup of coffee in between her hands. Lanie, who had finished the complete autopsy report of the victim, was called on a consultation in San Francisco, leaving the apartment all to herself. Kate couldn't be more relieved. She certainly couldn't risk Lanie's life, after the incident just a week ago.

Working the case couldn't be any more frustrating. And to top all the pressure, she had to focus extra hard to find Castle's girlfriend, as if that didn't tear her to tiny, shredded pieces. But she had a job to do, and she wasn't going to stop at anything to do it. Yet, a part of her wanted Castle to realize that she was the same person he fell in love with, and a greater part of her wished he'd fall back into love with her all over again, no matter how selfish it sounded, even to herself.

It had been 48 hours since Stefanie had gone missing, and the chances of finding her were fluctuating by the minute. No ransom calls, no bargains. Castle was going deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole, but his eyes never lost determination; the firm believer the he always was.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

Castle was definitely breaking under the stress. And not only because his girlfriend was nowhere to be found, not knowing if it wasn't too late for them yet. It was partly—no, mostly—because all the things he believed turned out to be false. His imaginations weren't always right, and he knew that now.

He thought she didn't love him. Yesterday, he found out the opposite. And he believed her. He always did. Kate would've married him. At this point of time, they could be Mr. and Mrs. Castle already. Some sort of relief washed over him. Maybe it was knowing he wasn't the only one who thought about what they could have been. Maybe it was the fact that he was wrong to think he'll be completely over Kate Beckett. Because that was a big, fat, presumption.

Castle knew he shouldn't be standing outside her door. He shouldn't be finding it so hard to just knock and get it over with. He just needed company—he convinced himself. He just needed someone who understood his pain. Someone to tell him that everything was going to be okay. And above all, he needed to apologize. This week's fiasco—Kate's confession, the dead ends, the yelling and the leaving the precinct without so much a goodbye—Castle knew Kate was the last person he needed. But his feet took him there. His heart took him there.

On the other side of the thick walls, Kate was getting more and more anxious by the minute. The light movements outside her door told her something didn't seem right. Someone was there. Not taking any chances, she grabbed her gun from the drawer and made her way to the main door, hands quick in turning the knob and pointing the weapon on the person on the other end.

A familiar yelp escaped Castle's throat.

Kate sighed, relieved. But it was Castle. Not so relieved. "Castle, are you alright? It's…" she trailed off, giving her wrist watch a quick glance, "2:47." She shifted her weight, and dropped her gun to her side.

His hand left his chest, his heartbeat returning to normal. "I couldn't sleep, and…I thought I'd…" he paused, blood rushing to his cheeks in shame. "I'm sorry about today. I didn't mean that. Please, Kate."

Kate sidestepped, letting him in. The circles around his eyes were getting noticeable. She could only imagine how he felt at the moment. And she wasn't going to lie. She thought the incident back at the precinct was going to make her snap. But Kate knew how much Castle cared for Stefanie. And Castle was definitely cracking under the pressure when he said—_screamed_—the words he said. He was still off for an apology speech for Ryan and Esposito, but she forgave him. And she couldn't afford being distracted. She couldn't let anything happen to the woman.

"I couldn't sleep, too." She added, walking towards the empty couch. "We contacted her immediate family. They hadn't heard from her in three months. Said it was completely normal for Stefanie to stop calling the house."

Castle let out a small smile. "She had a fight with her father about three months ago. I remember because she was so upset about it." He said, occupying the small space beside her. "A small laugh came out from his brief trip to memory lane. And then a change of scenery—Stefanie dragged to a tinted car by two hulk-size men—and the last bit of happiness faded into a frown. "I just want her to be okay."

"We'll find her Castle." She reassured him, too many times now. But if it was all it needed to bring relief in the room, then so be it.

"You don't know that." He shrugged what little hope she could offer, looking up at her in a heavy-laden gaze.

"I don't. But you have to know I'm not backing down."

Her green eyes looked at him with inexplicable intensity. The same bravery and strength that first got his attention. It certainly felt as if the five years with her looped in front of him, all over again. Castle saw the depths of her passion, her selflessness to find a woman she knew would stop her from being happy. And Ryan was right. If that wasn't love, then he sure as hell didn't know what that was. Like an instinctive tug between two opposite poles, he leaned closer…and closer. A million thoughts ran through his mind, screaming: _CASTLE, DON'T. CASTLE, THIS ISN'T RIGHT_. But deep down his heart, he heard a soft, almost inaudible whisper: _The heart wants what the heart wants. _And everything else faded into background.

Her eyes widened as he inched closer to her. Maybe Ted Mosby was right. Nothing good can ever happen after two in the morning. Her inhibitions were without a doubt shoved in the back of the car, and her insides were turning upside down as his hot breath lingered on her skin.

Kate closed his eyes, bracing herself for a mistake she had no idea she'd ever commit, and a soft gasp escaped her mouth, saying. "_Rick…_"

Just when she felt the barely there pressure of his lips on hers, her phone vibrated and a text from the precinct came through. An exasperated sigh escaped both their throats as they backed down, both out of breath. And they didn't even kiss yet. Kate's heart burned for longing as she looked away from his gaze, and read the message with her eyes.

Because no matter how hopeful she forced herself to be, there was a sliver of fear left inside her that didn't want to receive a call on a body drop. And no, she certainly couldn't let that happen now. Not to the woman at large. Not even after _almost_ kissing her boyfriend.

To her relief, it wasn't a body drop. But not a very good news either.

_Earlier that day…_

Tom rushed to the bull pen, looking a little less dashing with his growing beard and unkempt hair, oversized suit and dusty shoes. You'd think the FBI won't let him look that awful, but they did, and they wondered what sort of hell the guy had been through. Still, he passed by the sea of detectives with that charmer smile and everything was right in the world again. Yep, still the same Thomas Krauss.

"Detectives," he steered into the room, and nodded to the people inside.

Beckett, Ryan and Esposito, and two other FBI agents except the one shuffling keys on the keyboard gave a brief nod in his direction before their eyes shifted back to the screen, arms crossed around their waists. He followed their gazes, reading in between the lines.

"What are we trying to do, Agent Roger?"

Scrawny guy barely turned when he said, "The file on Stefanie Patrick is encrypted, sir. Looks like someone did some makeover."

A few blinks more, and a few failed attempts at cracking the locks in the complex key set before scrawny guy succeeded at his mission. "…and a makeover it is."

They exchanged looks. Tom held his breath as he felt the end of him coming nearer and nearer. He'd end up in jail, that's for sure. He was in for obstruction of justice. He looked to his side, heavy shuffle of footsteps coming their way.

"What is this?" Castle's voice filled the icy air. Kate met his gaze, fearing the worst. "Kate?"

Scrawny guy cleared his throat, answering his questions in behalf of the awe-stricken officers. "Stefanie Patrick didn't exist until seven months ago. It doesn't prove anything but…"

"The hell it doesn't." Castle snapped. "What are you trying to prove? Stefanie is a victim, here!"

His voice certainly made a few heads turn. "Why are you even looking into this?"

"Bro, you know why. It's protocol." Esposito countered, trying not to trigger the spark. "…we hit a barrier and…"

"And you assumed she's some fake person? That she's all a lie?" Castle wouldn't back down, setting his mug a little too hardly on the mahogany desk beside him. Kate took it as her cue to step in.

"Castle, you're not listening…"

"Are you seriously considering this, Kate?" his eyes darted on her, furious and unreasonable. And deep down, he knew that.

"You know we have to, Castle. And again, this doesn't prove anything." She tried to reason, but reason wasn't something an angry soul could see at the moment. She could only sigh out of frustration, "Go home."

Castle huffed out a deep breath, and backed away. "Can't you just accept the fact that Stefanie makes me happy?" he said in a low whisper that was meant only for her. And he rushed to the elevator.

Kate was left frozen in place.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: I'm glad to hear you're looking forward for a sequel. We'll be taking a break with angst with that one, and venture into fluff and romance, but of course, a hint of conflicts and Caskett heartache I really love. **

**But before that, here goes another chapter. Please, please, send in your insights and suggestions. I really want to hear from you. :)**

**Thanks again for sticking with me. **

* * *

**{CHAPTER XVI}**

_Til my last day, _

_I'll be lovin' you. _

**-Justin Moore**

The moment they rushed to the 12th, the heavens were on a serious downpour, strong winds blowing what little trees the city had in the streets, sending people to a fit of panic as they tried to find shelter in the canopies of buildings. New York City really does not sleep.

The ride to the precinct didn't take too long with the smooth traffic at early dawn. Castle and Beckett leapt out of the cab seat the moment the vehicle parked on the side of the tall building, making bigger steps to the homicide floor. Fury was rushing through Castle's veins, his fist turning white from clenching too tight. He kept up with Kate, her hair soaked in the rain, and both their shoes making squelched noises with every step. Even with the situation's adrenaline rush, Kate still felt the energy of their almost mishap. And yes, she forced herself to call it that to keep herself from doing it ever again. Twenty minutes ago, the precinct called her in for an interrogation. And what made her blood boil is finding out that Thomas Krauss had something to do with the case.

But the Tom they saw in the box was a far cry from what they had expected. Gone were the suit, slick hair and shiny shoes. A single, nasty bruise ran through his cheekbone up the corner of his left eye, his enormous biceps sticking out from his racer back tank top blotted with blood; top that with semi-skinny, ragged jeans and casual sneaker. Kate stopped in her tracks, and turned to face Castle, anger burning in his eyes.

"I'll take it from here."

He perked up, "What? No, Beckett. This guy's…"

"We don't know that. And with the state you're in, I don't think you can still think objectively. I'll take it from here," she replied, no more the soft Kate, but the firm and stoic Detective Beckett. Castle knew better than to push further into her limits, and resorted to the viewing room on the other side of the glass with the others.

Kate took a deep breath, and barged into the interrogation room, Tom's eyes shooting up to her direction. "Are you going to tell me what this is all about?" she began, and laid out surveillance photos of Tom and the first shooter, taken weeks before the ambush.

"I'm not going to lie…" Tom mumbled, his voice rough from who knows why. He leaned back in his seat.

"Then, don't." she replied, arranging the photographs in a single line. "How are you affiliated with Andreas, Krauss? Are you involved with the murders? Are you with them?" she shot through and through, one straightforward question after another. Silver lining wasn't a popular thing when trying to squeeze something out of an officer of the law.

He shook his head. "No. Andreas works for a higher person. He's a shark. He threatened me, saying if I don't give them Jed Hudson's whereabouts, I'm gone. If I knew it will all be coming to this, I wouldn't have told him, Kate." His voice, his blue eyes, and the lack of lying markers told Kate he was telling the truth. So she pushed the 'record' button on the side of the table, and she let him continue. "The Draughty's are more powerful than you think. And they kill for vengeance. When Tabitha Draughty was put to prison, they sought out to kill the lawyers and the cops who put her there. Jed Hudson was under the umbrella of the FBI, so they come to me. Blackmailed me and stuff."

Kate leaned against her seat, fingers tapping on the steel table. "Why you, Krauss? Why not somebody else?"

"Because I'm a Draughty." He blurted. "Or, biologically, I am. That is all that I know. This?" he pointed out to the bruise on his pretty face, "They did this. And the ambush. And the kidnapping of your writer boy's girlfriend."

Certainly not _her_ writer boy and she shrugged, keeping in line with what mattered. "Where's the girl?" she leaned forward, her fist tightly clenched on her side.

Tom sighed, taking his walls down completely. "I might know who to chase. Elena Miguel; she's the second shooter. Last time I saw her was the day of the shooting. That's when I made a way out of their plans. She's Eagle Eye. She killed all of the victims, including Jed Hudson. Eagle Eye's a master assassin…"

Before Tom could finish his statement, the door swung open, and an agitated Castle burst into the room. One moment later, his fists were clenched tightly on the collar of Tom's tank top. "Where's Stefanie? Tell me!"

Kate rushed to the men and tried to get Castle off of Tom with all her might. "Castle, stop it!"

Ryan and Esposito came to their rescue, and grabbed Castle by the arm. "Come on, man. Simmer down."

"Simmer down?!" Castle shrugged both his friends' assistance. The earlier plan of making an apology to the guys was long gone flushed to the toilet.

"Don't take it out on him, Rick." Kate interfered, going past the boys and faced Castle. "He's helping us." And she was telling the truth, despite the fact that Krauss was essential to Jed Hudson's killing. "We find Elena Miguel, and then we find Stefanie."

Tom cleared his throat. "I'm not done yet. I know where they are."

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

Of course she was happy, now that the case was finally coming to an end. But why on earth, did she feel like a part of her didn't want it to come to an end just yet? The sun was slowly coming up in the horizon, and after a mere hour and a half of studying floor plans, formulating a plan of attack, and prepping their inner selves for yet another day of danger, they were all on their way to the scene, following directions from the voice in the GPS provided by the Bureau, guns hoisted in ankles, waists, ammos stashed in pockets and in vests.

Kate lost the battle in trying to get Castle to stay, being the persistent nine-year old who just didn't take no for an answer.

She took the steering wheel, her feet pressed on the accelerator a little too hard. Being along with Castle in the car and the silence of the air, she had no room to escape what had almost happened. All these time she tried to keep her hands to herself, and she was doing quite a great job at it. But earlier today, he seemed to shove the fact that he was in a relationship on the back of the couch when he tried to cross the line. And she didn't do anything about it. Hell, she was waiting like a puppy in the damn line.

Fatigue was beginning to wear him down. Perhaps the lack of sleep was bringing out his subconscious, and he blamed the 'almost' smooch on that. Castle knew he could blame it on a hundred other things, but he could never deny the fact that he knew, at least at the moment, what he wanted. His heart yearned for Kate. And all that was to blame was himself. Not the lack of sleep, not the day's stress, and certainly not because he missed Stefanie.

Yes. Kate was still the one person whom he fell in love with. Madly, and deeply. But a part of him still screamed at the misery she caused him. In fact, looking back on it all, every single woman he loved had left him. And each breakup left him a little more damaged than the last. And Stefanie? She didn't leave. She was there when he needed someone. She was all that was left—in exception for Alexis and Martha, of course—when everything in his world was ashes on his feet when Kate left.

His eyes darted to the photograph temporarily taped on the dashboard. "Elena Miguel." Such a shame. Such a waste of a beautiful face. It was scary what tragedy can make out of people. Kate was one of the lucky few who managed to get out of the rabbit hole before the big, bad wolf had the chance to eat her alive. But the woman before his eyes; it may be a little too late for her now.

"Hey Castle, everything's going to be fine." She choked the words out of her throat, familiar nerves getting into her. It had always been the uncertainty of another shot at living that came along with these kinds of arrests. And for the woman who'd been through enough, it got scarier and scarier.

"I'm sorry about what happened." He sighed, "Again. I just…snapped…"

"Yeah, you did." She briefly replied, eyes fixed on SUV in front of them. "We've been cops a while. Ryan and Espo gets it; don't worry."

Castle looked back to the road, silence once again taking over. The vehicle made a sharp turn at a worse road, the trees getting taller and taller with each passing distance. Kate tried to mask the growing anxiety inside her.

For Castle.

For Castle.

For Castle.

"You know the drill, Castle." She gave him a quick glance before turning back to the road. "You stay outside. I can't put you in danger."

"Kate, but…"

"No buts." She said, firm and final. "I can't let you be in there. It's too dangerous." Even more so with her limping arm. She didn't trust herself with the responsibility of keeping him safe, when she couldn't even guarantee her own safety. "I'm doing this so you can be happy again." She added, her voice low, and piercing to the heart. "And Stefanie makes you happy."

"Kate,"

"…and that'd work if you stay alive."

They rounded the last turn, a two-story, completely out of place house became of plain sight. Kate turned off the engine, and pulled the hand brake. Her heart racing as she watched the others disengage from their cars. One of these days, she had to pay Dr. Burke a visit for a recurring PTSD. But right now, it was time to box her fears in the back of her mind and do what she took an oath to do.

Looking over her shoulder, she looked into Castle's eyes, and he saw fear in Kate like he'd never seen before.

With a shaky hand, she opened the door. "You stay here. Don't. Go. Inside." As if emphasis would keep him from doing stupid.

Gun in hand; she blended into the sea of detectives and FBI agents, feet quietly treading to the different doors of the abandoned house.

He honored her wishes, and stayed in the car. But not for long. When a good ten minutes passed without so much a single person coming out, he leapt out of his seat, on his own to do the one thing Kate specifically begged him not to do.

Then shots fired. Too many shots. Castle dropped to the ground, hands on both his ears to keep his eardrum from tearing. It was a hail of bullets inside. The mayhem didn't stop until he heard a voice from the inside shout, "OUT! OUT! OUT!" and a number of officers—from the main door, from the windows on the second floor, from the back doors—jumped their away out of the ancient building, fearing for their lives.

Then came a blinding brightness, and a burning heat. He ducked, shielding himself from debris flying out from the explosion. A series of 'booms' later, the place fell quiet again. There was only him, and the few officers who made it out safe. Blood rushed to his ears when he realized…she wasn't one of them.

"Castle, you okay?" Esposito. He made it. Then Castle saw Ryan from afar, recovering from his fall from the second floor.

"Where's she?" His knees trembled, and somewhere down his spine ached. But the physical pain didn't make up for the fact that five minutes later, he still couldn't find her. "Where is she?!"

Castle was surprised when Esposito relaxed, and looked to the distance. He followed his friend's gaze, and spotted a woman, limping with a uniform, on their way to his direction.

"Rick?"

Stefanie. It was Stefanie. Oh. "Stef?"

Stefanie endured the limp and rushed to his side, enveloping him around her arms. "Rick, you're here!"

"Stef." He held her. Five minutes more. Still no sign of Kate. The next time he looked at Esposito, he now knew what Castle meant. His arms are wrapped around Stefanie, but her heart ached for Kate.

No…he couldn't lose her.

_Not today. Not like this. Not again._

So when Esposito asked Ryan the same question, and getting the same answer, they both rushed to the burning building. Without a second's doubt, he pulled away from Stefanie, and joined the two.

_Not today. Not like this. Not again._

He was certainly not over Kate. And he mentally slapped himself for realizing it just now. Because in that moment, his heart burned for Kate, and Kate alone. He loved her. Who was he kidding?

"Kate?!"

"Beckett!"

"Kate? Kate!"

No answer.

_No. _

_Not today. Not like this. Not again._

* * *

Thoughts?

More to come! :)


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: **I hope you don't hate me for this. I just think that it's rational for Castle to feel somehow compelled to be there for Stefanie because well, he's still in a relationship with her, and for one thing, his feelings are constantly confusing him. Castle can be confused too, in my opinion J

Kate, on the other hand, will feel (or so I think she would) like every other girl when the guy she loves chooses another woman. And that is exactly what her thoughts are after Castle went home with Stefanie. She sacrificed her safety for his happiness, and when she wakes up and he's not there, she's going to feel bad. Or you know, I would feel bad.

Here goes chapter seventeen! Gosh, we made it this far J Thank you for your undying support. Reviews make me sane and occupied. Thank you!

** {CHAPTER XVII} **

_'Cause trying not to love you, only goes so far _

_Trying not to need you, is tearing me apart _

_Can't see the silver lining, from down here on the floor _

_And I just keep on trying, but I don't know what for _

_'Cause trying not to love you _

_Only makes me love you more_

**Trying Not To Love You, Nickelback**

Castle kicked off burning debris at his feet, making way for himself and the other two trailing close behind him. As their feet took them what used to be the living room, they separated. Castle heard Stefanie from afar, her voice fading in the horrible tracks of burning walls and cracking floorboards. He didn't even realize he had left her side when he rushed to the burning house. His eyes searched through the ashes, hoping to find anything to lead his way. But there was nothing besides the aftermath of the explosion. And if by any chance Kate was here when it happened, there'll be no chance of survival.

_No. She's okay. She has to be okay_. He told himself, treading his feet on what he thought was safe to step on, calling and calling; his heart sinking with each unanswered call.

Then somewhere in the back, in what used to be the basement, Ryan exclaimed. "Over here!"

He followed Ryan's voice, and hurried to the short flight of stairs leading to where he was, his heart quickening as he went down, praying that it wasn't too late for them to find her yet.

"Over here, Castle. A little help," Ryan called him over, his figure lurched forward on the ground, strong arms trying to flip over a body. A body. That's what first registered his mind. He rushed to Ryan's side, hoping his knees wouldn't give on him. _No, no. She has to be okay. _

"Is she alright?"—his voice cracked. Ryan's forefingers traced her carotid artery, relieved to have her steady beats pulsate on his skin.

Kate still lay unconscious; looking ever so small and fragile, curled up on the ground like that. Ryan took off his coat and laid it on top of her, then let Castle's arms do the rest. It was harder dodging debris and protecting both himself and Kate when they tried to escape the mayhem. Esposito, catching sight on Kate on Castle's arms joined them on the less damaged portion that was the back exit. The paramedics from the nearest hospital were already scattered around the area, and a stretcher rushed to their direction the second they got off of the building. He gently set Kate down on the stretcher, a groan escaping her throat at the sudden outburst of noise from the outside; sirens, sirens, and sirens.

"It's okay. I got you." Castle mumbled, his hand clasped tightly on hers. "You're okay."

"Rick?"—Stefanie's voice broke through his cloud of relief, and brought him back to reality. He snapped to the direction of her voice, his hand quick to let go of Kate.

He wasn't supposed to feel like this.

Like Kate mattered more. Deep inside though, he already knew she always mattered more than anything.

Torn and confused, he let his gut take him to Stefanie, his arms around her small frame. She pulled an inch away, before her lips were longingly smothering his, speaking volumes of passion he can never find deep inside him to return anymore. Because when they pulled away and saw her smile, didn't warm his heart like it did in the past.

He shrugged it off. Because Stefanie deserved better than the raging battle for the growing coldness for her, and the burning desire for Kate. Stefanie deserved better. He smiled back, cupped her face with both his palms, and said,

"I thought I lost you."

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

"Katherine Beckett, you've got to keep yourself out of trouble, girl!"

Lanie slid open the curtains, worry etched on her face. A little twenty minutes ago, the ambulance took her and the others injured to the hospital. And no matter the instance, she was beyond glad to see her friend. Lanie wore a black, figure-hugging, cocktail dress, her hair fashioned into a neat bun.

"Lanie? When did you get back?" she sat up, careful not to trigger her sore muscles. She was lucky enough to be spick and span after the explosion. The bomb which came from the living room didn't quite touch the basement.

"Two hours ago, and that doesn't matter. Come on, I thought Gates assigned you to desk work?" Lanie took the chair on the side of the bed. "I really don't want to go to the lab and see you in my table. Earlier this month, an ambush. Today, an explosion!"

"Lanie…" she pleaded with her voice. As much as she appreciated the concern, Kate wasn't in the very mood of contemplating her decisions. Decisions she made not out of professionalism, but something more. For someone.

"I know. I'm sorry, girl." Lanie backed down, and leaned back against her seat. "Are you feeling okay, though? You don't look so good." She pointed at the whole of her. First, to point out the slight weight she put off since Washington, then the fresh bullet wound on her arm, then to whatever concussion she got from being thrown off the wall, then landing on her chest to the cold, stank floor.

"I might be feeling nauseous because of the medications. Still waiting on the MRI and CT scans. Gates insisted I have them taken." Besides the obvious soreness radiating through her body, and the mental note of paying her shrink a visit constantly plaguing her mindset, she felt fine. Physically. Emotionally? That was a whole different story. The last time she saw him was in the middle of nowhere, his arm around Stefanie's waist as they got into the police car. Right now they could well be in his loft, celebrating in all ways they know.

She let out a small laugh. Right. When did she become this person? "…I'm good. I guess."

Lanie tilted her head, all too knowing of Kate's thoughts. So she kept her thoughts to herself, and opened her ears for Kate.

"We almost kissed." She blurt, earning a well-deserved 'WHAT' look from Lanie. "It was earlier today. Right before the whole mess was on the roll. And I thought right there, maybe I still have a shot in making things right." She sighed, her fingers fidgeting. "Maybe it was one of those moments for him where he almost makes a mistake because he misses his girlfriend. And maybe I can never make things right." Kate looked up, her eyes giving away the surrender she most certainly felt deep inside her. "Because everything is in place. At least, in his own, perfect little world."

The moments leading to the explosion played back in her mind.

_There was movement in the dark basement; that was why she went down there. It was dark, and her flashlight could only do so much to aid her vision. A few steps into the void, she heard a voice. Trailing the light to the sound, she saw Stefanie, one hand cuffed on a steel pipe, mouth bound by a dirty fabric._

"...he's not here. That should mean I'm right."

_Kate unlatched the fabric off of Stefanie's mouth, and with one, singular kick to the pipe, and it broke off from one end, releasing Stefanie. She remembered saying, 'Stick with me', and fearing surprises on their way back. For all she knew there could well be other enemies plunging their way to her. _

_Stefanie ran the flight of stairs, but Kate didn't follow her immediately. Maybe it was something that fell from the shelves that caught her attention._

_Kate couldn't quite place the moments that came after. _

_Life left her body when the deafening boom filled the quiet array of woods, the force sending her to the back of the room, her head hitting the pavement when she landed on the ground. _

"I'm sorry, Kate."

She smiled. "How many times have we gone over this conversation, Lanie?" then a laugh that only made her a hundred times worse.

"I just never learn, don't I?" Running her fingers through her sweat-clad locks, she let the tears burn her eyes.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

Just when they thought the case was finally coming to a close, they hit a bigger road block. Now they were left with three injured detectives, one of them their friend. And they didn't have to ask what she was doing in the basement. That's where they saw the broken pipe, and the burned fabric that could have been used by the hostage taker. Kate saved Stefanie. But the question remained: How come Stefanie made it out safe and she didn't?

No records spelled danger. And their gut told him Stefanie couldn't be trusted. Tapping his pen on his desk, Ryan went over the investigation files sent over by CSU from the explosion. The explosion originated from the living area, mere steps from the stairs leading to the basement. If Kate hadn't stayed put, she could have died.

"Hey, man. I don't trust the woman." Ryan gave Esposito a sideways glance. "I don't know why. I just don't."

Esposito briefly paused on his mission of flipping pages, "I'm not reading all these for my health. No records? That's more than a red flag. There's got to be something." He said, his voice low, and hushed. As much as he didn't trust the girlfriend, Castle was still their friend. As much as they wanted their mommy and daddy back together, they still had to be happy for his new relationship. And they would have liked her; if it wasn't for the circumstances.

They exchange a nod; thoughts completely aligned. Then Tom came in, showered up and looking fresh in his usual suit.

"We got a body." Tom filled them in, striding past the array of desks, then to the makeshift headquarters. Ryan and Esposito followed his tracks, stopping by the monitor, which was now filled with brand new pictures of a new corpse from the explosion. "The lab just identified the DNA belonging to Elena Miguel."

"Elena Miguel's dead?" said Ryan. "Someone of expertise could have escaped the bombing."

"Yes," Tom agreed. "Now we know for sure she didn't detonate the bomb. She was found in the second floor, bathed in gasoline. Someone made sure she wouldn't live. But the fire trucks killed the fire soon enough for the body to be completely turned to ash." They had never seen Tom so determined and straightforward with his theories. "Let's fetch the family. Maybe they can give us something."

Ryan and Esposito only nodded, and went back to their desk to do the contacting. Wedged deep within them is an obvious question.

Why waste time on the family, when they might already know who did it?

* * *

Thoughts?


	18. Chapter 18

**CHAPTER XVIII**

_Dear diamond_  
_Pretty and new_  
_Perfectly flawless too good to be true_  
_Dear diamond_  
_You shine like the sun_  
_Wrap around my finger just like he does_

**Dear Diamond, Miranda Lambert**

Stefanie paced back and forth in the small cell. By all means, the NYPD had a right to hold her for 24 hours, and if they don't find anything, she was free to go. It was highly plausible—the police digging the core of her being. But she wouldn't count on it. She had eluded the law for quite some time now. And being caught won't happen today. Nah-uh.

But still, she had to mentally punch herself for that one slip up. The damn detective chose to stay in the basement for whatever freaky reason, and that kept her alive. She was supposed to detonate the bomb when she was already on the porch, a good distance from Detective Beckett who was supposed to be in the living room.

Good thing, everybody, even Castle, was too busy rescuing the damsel in distress, that she found the time to cover her tracks with the small remote that ticked the bomb off. She was too close to getting her revenge. It was supposed to be a perfect crime. But the detective must have a cat reflex. But in no time, Detective Beckett would have used up all of her nine lives.

"Miss Patrick, you're up for interrogation." A young uniform fiddled with the padlocks of the cell, and swung its doors to the side. He grabbed her gently—and she quickly shrugged—and led her to the box.

Castle stood on the far corner, his gaze fixed on something on the other side of the bullpen.

"Rick?"

His head turned to her direction, fretting towards her. "Hey, it's going to be okay. They're just having a bit of a glitch, but it's all going to be alright."

"What?" her voice cracked. To be honest, the whole pretending-to-be-someone she-was-not trick was getting into her nerves. "What glitch? What is it about?" she said in a voice that seemed to wrap Castle around her little finger. Like he had always been.

Castle sighed. "Detective Ryan and Esposito are in there. They just have to clarify some stuff, okay? You'll be alright."

"Can't you come with me?"

He looked at the uniform, and the young detective shook his head. And of course, he already knew that. Five years of playing cop taught him a lot of things. And something like missing years on a record meant danger. For a mystery writer, not knowing spelled danger. But he had to trust his heart. He had to believe.

"I can't. But I'll be outside."

Stefanie nodded her head hesitantly. For a lawyer, interrogations shouldn't be so scary. But when you're at the opposite table, and the fact that the next few minutes will decide her fate, she thought it was pretty normal to be getting cold feet. So she turned her back on him, and let the young detective escort her to the small, claustrophobic room. Maybe it was meant to be intimidating. It was no coincidence why some called it the 'grilling station'.

"Hi, boys." She greeted, albeit shyly. It was what perfect Stefanie Patrick would have done.

Ryan and Esposito exchange a knowing look, both pensive, and more inclined to a professional interrogation than a friendly greeting. Why, of course. They were Kate Beckett's people. Not hers. With that, she put the both of them on her 'NO' list.

"Sorry we have to do this, Miss Patrick. But we have to ask you some questions about the explosion." Ryan started, laying out mug shots, crime scene photos, and a floor plan of the building.

"And a few things about this case."—Esposito backed up. "Why don't we start with this woman?" He laid out a portrait of Elena Miguel, young, and vibrant. Records say she was twenty years old. A small-town girl who got off of the wrong foot in the big city.

_"No, no…" the old woman cried. "Elena is a sweet girl. She was ambitious, yes. But she was a good girl, Detective." _

_"She just made it out of high school, you know. She wanted a shot at Harvard. Elena was meant to be a brilliant lawyer." Her husband added, holding on to his wife's hand tightly._

_"I'm sorry for your loss, Mr. and Mrs. Miguel." Esposito trailed off, finding his footing around the distraught parents. "But we have evidence pointing to your daughter. We have eyewitness accounts saying she was involved in the events of this case."_

"Do you know this woman?" Ryan asked, sliding the photograph further into Stefanie's side of the table.

Stefanie looked up, her eyes blank. "I'm sorry. But I don't."

"She was found dead earlier tonight at the same house you were held captive. Maybe you saw her around?"

"I..I might have heard a woman's voice." She answered, careful not to blow her cover. "…I'm sorry. But I never really saw any of their faces. They wore these fabric masks, and it's hard to hear. And the people who brought my food were men. Big men."

Esposito nodded. Not that he was contented with anything the woman said. He unfolded the floor plan, and laid it out on the table. "This is the floor plan of the house. This," he pointed at an 'X' mark, "…is where the bomb went off. Can you tell us where you were held hostage?"

Stefanie was getting weary. It didn't take a lawyer or a cop to tell that the two was on to her. But she complied. She traced her fingers, and took a moment to place the floor plan on her memory. Not that she needed to. She knew the house inside and out. "Here. I was here; on the far corner of the room, right by the pipes."

"This is where Detective Beckett found you?"

She nodded.

"Where were you when the bomb went off?" asked Ryan, leaning forward, his elbows hard on the table.

"…I made it out, I think. I was…thrown off…I…somebody was yelling for everybody to get out, so I ran to the door…"

"So you left Detective Beckett?"

"Look, I didn't know she was left behind!" her pitch went up a notch, "…I didn't mean for her to get hurt, okay? I thought she was behind me when it happened."

_"Elena…" the old woman sobbed, reliving memories of their lost daughter. "My poor girl. I remember she was in grade school, she joined the drama club. In high school, she got the lead role in the school play. She was going to be an actress, you know? But then her brother got killed; left at the dumpsters on the wrong side of town. That's when she decided to be a lawyer. Hundreds of evidence can point to her, but I know, Elena wouldn't have done these awful things."_

_The husband took the woman in his arms, calming her through the fits of sobs. "Please, Detective." He pleaded, his hands fishing something out of his side pocket. It was a photograph of a younger Elena, fresh from high school graduation, a smile spread across her features with what seemed to be an older brother, sheepishly, and proudly standing by her side. No way could this girl have done something so horrible. But they were detectives, not social services. "Elena has been framed."—the father concluded._

"Beckett saved your life, and you left her there," Esposito said, his voice deep and firm; piercing.

"Hey, Javi…" Ryan countered, a tight grip around Esposito's arm, keeping him from terrorizing Stefanie. "Don't." he said, and turned back to Stefanie, now a little paler than she should be. "That would be all, Miss Patrick."

The young detective opened the door, and escorted Stefanie back to the cell. Fourteen hours to go before she can go back to her plan. Fourteen hours more of rearranging priorities.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

Channel surfing had never been so unsuccessful. One channel after another, one teenage drama to another, then resting on a chick flick to nurture her inner romantic, before deciding on the recent episode on The Voice. At least the harmony kept her occupied. Her doctor decided to keep her a night, with an assurance the NYPD will pay for the bills. Kate couldn't say no. She would also like to watch out for surprises such as internal hemorrhage or any medical anomaly. Two cops were stationed outside her door. You'd think Madonna was in the house.

She turned down the volume, realizing immediately what sense there was in watching a singing contest with the volume too low. So she turned it off. A hundred plus channels, and not a single station piqued her attention. Lanie had to examine the body found in the house, as much as she wanted to stay. And Perlmutter was in Hawaii, doing all sorts of fun. _Good for you, Perlmutter_.

Kate set the remote control on the side of the bed, resting her head on the all too fluffy pillow when the door opened. Detective Ramos, a long-legged, scruffy late twenties guy peaked in. "Detective, Mr. Castle is here."

She sat up, her sore muscles tingling at the sudden shift of movement. "It's alright, Ramos."

Ramos mumbled a soft 'you're good to go' to Castle, and the door opened wider. She caught the sight of a lovely flower bouquet, clutched between Castle's fingers. It was ten forty in the evening. Shouldn't he be with Stefanie? And with what Esposito told her about the interrogation, Stefanie seemed to be the one in need of his company.

"Hey," Castle greeted, a warm, yet exhausted smile spreading across his face. "Feeling okay?"

Kate returned a smile, feeling a lot energized after a day of napping and frozen yogurt. They were especially delicious in this hospital. "Better."

He took the seat on her bedside, setting the flower on her welcoming arms. "Thank you, Kate."

Her eyes met his, and let the intensity of her burning desire eat away at him. Kate may be good at hiding feelings, but it never worked on Castle. He knew her like the back of her hand.

"Not a lot of people would have done what you did. Thank you, so much. You risked your life out there when you…"

"It's alright, Castle. You don't have to thank me. It's my job, remember?"

"No. That was…" he paused, letting the reality of the situation sink in. He needed to see her not only to thank her for saving Stefanie. He needed to see her because everything in his perfect little world was beginning to crumble. And Kate; she has been one of his crutches for a long, long time. "…that was extraordinary."

If she could only tell him all the reasons why she had risked her life, too many times these past days. It had always been because of him. But that would only make things more complicated than they already are. And Kate was the last person who wanted to pitch in to the complexity of his life.

"How is Stefanie holding up?"

He hesitated. "She's still in the precinct, and uhm…as of right now, with no one else to chase, Stef's a prime suspect."

"I'm sorry."

"I want to know what you think." He said, "They've been squeezing information out of her. And she's tired. She hasn't slept in days, and all Stefanie wants is to go home. The FBI's been tracking her finances, the NYPD questioning her colleagues. It's going down, and I don't know who to believe." He sighed, his fingers making their way to the wrinkles on her blankets, absent-mindedly fiddling. "…I've always believed in you. What do you think's going to come out of this?"

Kate was left speechless. Did it really matter if she told him what she thought? Because no matter how she rearranged her thoughts, the idea would always come out crooked. There wasn't a single chance for this story to turn into a happy ending. But his gaze held on. And she most certainly couldn't spare him a sugar-coated lie.

"Castle, we've worked together for five years. All that time must have taught you something, right?" she began, slow and organized. He nodded. "A woman whose identity didn't exist until seven months ago, kidnapped, then almost killed in an explosion where a body bathed in gasoline was found. I'm sorry, Rick. But even without concrete evidence, it will still lead people to think of the worse."

"Yeah, but you don't jump to conclusions. That's not your thing, right?"

She nodded, her hands stroking the rough texture of the bouquet. "It's your thing."

"…right." He looked away. Castle wasn't going to lie. Weighing in on the facts, and looking back to these past few days, something didn't add up. And maybe he had been too blinded by his emotions to see it. He was a mystery writer to begin with. He should be able to see a problem when it comes his way. "…you think she did…all this?"

"I don't know." Kate mumbled. "But nothing is ever what it seems. You know that, right?"

"…I do. But what if _everything_ is what it seems?"

"Then maybe you'll just have to think of what you are prepared to do when it happens."

Castle drew a sharp breath, his eyes leaving Kate.

Because she was right. Again.

Kate never stopped believing in him. Even in those times where all he could give her was crazy theories that turned out to be true. But it all goes down to that afternoon at the park. That day, he had lost all hope and trust in Kate Beckett. She became one of the people on his black list. But then to sum up all that had happened between them these past few weeks—coming back to New York, admitting her feelings to him, putting herself in the line of fire to save the woman that made him happy—Kate proved to him that she was the same old Kate that he fell in love with years ago.

Maybe it was time to start trusting her again.

* * *

**A/N: There!** Some kind of resolution ahead of us.

I can never thank you enough for your wonderful insights. You inspire me not only to write more, but also to study more. And at this point in the game, my college life is a lot harder than last year.

If you wish to tell me more about this story, you can follow me on twitter CaminnaFerolin. I find it really hard to respond here because of the PM limits. So, if you have any suggestions or comments at all, contact me. And we'll fangirl together. That's fo sure. :)


	19. Chapter 19

**CHAPTER NINTEEN**

Gone were the awkward staring contests. The last forty five minutes with Kate were the best forty five minutes he had in these past few days. The medication running through her veins were beginning to wean off of her system, the intensity of her bruises a hundred times more palpable. But he was there, and she hadn't realized she had stopped thinking of anything other than him. He told stories about his new novel, the places he'd gone to, the depth and the complexity of the new character, and all other things she had missed out in the past year without making her feel left out. His words always had some kind of magic, taking her with him to those days spent in Dubai, in the middle of the dessert, in the name of research. They laughed at his misadventures, and paused for his most valuable lessons.

Castle was right when he decided to see her to blow off steam. The precinct was becoming more and more of an effective sauna saloon, and he needed a breather. More than a breather.

He _needed_ Kate.

"…well Martha must be really proud, huh?" He caught the last of her half-meant sarcastic remark. That same sarcasm that sent his insides twirling. Because wit had always made her eyes light up; her cheeks glow in pride.

"She's lucky to have a son as cool as..." He shot back, pointing both fingers to his direction. Kate let out a small giggle, drowsiness winning her over. It was a little over eleven, and after a long day, she was bound to be too tired. Or so her body was too tired. Because her heart wouldn't stop skipping. Like a teenager in the front row of her senior crush's football game.

"Oh, you should rest." He mumbled, his gluts glued to the stool. He certainly didn't want to leave, no matter how much he knew about Stefanie back in the precinct. He thought it made him a bad boyfriend for that. But he deserved some time to place his thoughts in his head.

"You should, too." Kate replied, trailing every inch of detail on his face, as if taking him in. As if there'd be no tomorrow for the both of them. Right now, she could pretend everything was all that was. Lost in his ocean blue eyes, she almost believed herself. Right now, they could be husband and wife, waiting for their baby boy (or girl) from the nursery.

_Yeah, Kate. If only._ "Dark circles around the eyes don't look good on paper."

He chuckled, straightening the edges of his shirt as he stood. "I don't live my life on paper, so…" he shrugged, watching her expression go solemn. Kate hid the hesitation, and smiled back, thanking him once again for the flowers and the good time. It's been so long for the both of them to have felt that genuine happiness only the other can ever give.

"Will you be here in the morning?"

"Probably not." She said, with a sense of finality. "I'll be at the precinct, that's for sure."

"No way! You've been through a lot. You deserve another day off."

"You know I won't do that." Kate replied, looking straight at him with conviction written all over her eyes. And of course. He knew she wasn't going to back down. Not when the case had become more and more personal. Whoever was behind it all didn't want her alive. Kate wasn't going to tease her luck. Because maybe the third time won't be a charm.

So he backed down, and smiled. "You take care. Don't let the guys outside go home."

Kate only smiled in return, all too engrossed at this side of Castle she most certainly missed. And she'll probably heed his advice, no matter how inexperienced the two uniforms stationed outside her door seemed to be.

Castle didn't know what he was doing when his instinct made him lean closer…and closer, until his lips touched the top of her hand. A gesture by a real gentleman out of friendly farewell. But they both knew it wasn't just that. She froze at the contact, just as surprised. Kate's boxed emotions were all over the place. That was why when he released his grip, she immediately caught his arm, tugging him back. Their eyes locked, both hearts thumping against their skin. Neither knew what was happening and what was going to happen. But neither made an effort to hold back.

Castle never found it in himself to resist Kate Beckett. Even at the moment, when memories of her—the good and the bad—came flooding his thoughts, one thing was still crystal clear: He wanted her. That was why when she didn't break her gaze, he leaned closer, and closer. His lips against hers, hot breath speaking volumes of longing; Kate's hands made their way to his jaws then up his shaggy hair, running fingers through them, until she made a nice, gentle grip on his neck. And she pulled him closer, deepening the kiss.

It was wrong. They both knew that.

But that didn't stop their hearts to be intertwined again, along with the dancing of their tongues, only parting ways when they ran out of breaths.

It was wrong.

It was pure bliss.

But she searched his eyes, and could feel the small guilt grow into something bigger, and it was eating away at him. He opened his mouth, and she stopped him by putting a finger on his lips. "Don't."

Castle took her hand with his. There was no better way out of this. He now knew for sure he still had feelings for Kate. Who was he kidding, anyway? She had always been the one. But he wasn't the kind of person to get himself out of a relationship in a snap of a finger. When he looked deep inside him, one thing was for certain, too. He also loved Stefanie.

Kate seemed to read his thoughts when she shrugged away from the contact.

"I'm sorry." He whispered.

Kate smiled; heartbreak burning from her green irises. "Don't be."

Their eyes locked, and a feeling that it was going to be the last time hung over their heads. Seconds ticked on, and Kate found herself running her fingers through Castle's thick, bushy hair, remembering all too well how he gets a haircut every five months to maintain its glamour, and knowing all too well how it smelled—menthol, and never getting over those moments when he rested his head on her chest, letting her be the big spoon every once in a while.

She cleared her throat, "Just make sure she stays. She doesn't know what she'll be missing."

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

"We only have little time till she's good to go." Esposito impatiently hovered in Ryan's desk, his hand clutching an almost useless file. In fact, everything in the room should be labeled a 'DEAD END'. His cop sense was screaming at him. If only he could convict, and send someone to prison with his gut on his defense.

Ryan momentarily looked up, still engrossed on whatever content his monitor held.

"Tell me you found something."

"Ahuh, just….hang in there." His fingers snapped on the keyboard, eyes darting up and down some kind of list. "Maybe I can prove that Elena Miguel is innocent. See, I sent a uniform down that diner where the ambush happened, and then he showed the photograph to the employees, and the regulars. They know Elena Miguel; she worked there. And for hysteria of a reaction back there? She couldn't have done it."

"But the second shooter was wearing sunglasses. They sure it wasn't her?"

"Pulled CCTV records, and get this. Miguel was working the shift when it happened. We didn't get to talk to her because she disappeared right after."

"Whoever made the shots made sure Elena wouldn't say a thing. ME's reports verified that Miguel died three days before her body was set on fire. Cuff marks were found around the wrists, and a trace of Botolinum toxin in the liver."

"Maybe the parents were right about being framed-up." Esposito sighed, his mind wandering back to the conversation they had with the distraught folks. Crazy what this world had become. People die at the stake of others. The frame-up angle was becoming more and more vivid, and one of these days, maybe they could link it all back to the mysteriously cleaned-up past of Stefanie Patrick.

Just as the light at the end of the tunnel hinted their path, Tom strode past, circles around his eyes getting darker and deeper by the day. "Found Elena Miguel's apartment. She's the second shooter." He said, in a voice so firm and certain, there wouldn't be a chance in the world to stand against it. "CSU's sending over the freak board. Go home. We'll get on it in the morning."

"Freak board?" Ryan asked, "How does it prove anything?"

"Not anything. We can't be sure if Miguel owned the thing, but we found it in her apartment. I'm positive she does." Tom continued, then handed over a long, manila envelope containing 8R photographs from the scene. "Surveillance photographs of Detective Beckett, and if the timestamps are reliable at all, some date back to when she first got back in New York. More photos of the other victims were found in the closet. It's all the evidence we need to convict."

"Convict a dead person. Wow, this investigation had never been so fruitless." Esposito interceded, his eyes fixed on the picture before him; a wide cork board with spy photos of Kate pinned against it.

"We're not stopping here, right?" Ryan asked again.

Tom sighed, his features reflecting resistance from the decision. "I believe we are. This case is closed. Found the murderers."

"Closed? What about the part where Elena Miguel ends up dead? If she called the shots in this, she should not be in the morgue. In fact, if she did call the shots in the crimes, shouldn't be Stefanie Patrick dead? And what about the missing identity? Why was she kidnapped, anyway?"

"I'm sorry, Detective. But the FBI won't pursue that angle anymore. All the Deputy Director wanted was to find Jed Hudson's killer. He got what he wanted, so he wants us home. But you're free to continue, so long as your Captain agrees."

"And your resources?"

"All yours. Director's being generous. Besides, Detective Beckett was a treasured subordinate."

Tom nodded in reverence to the time he spent with the detectives, and hurried back to the headquarters, where the others were starting to pack. In no time, they'll have their break room back. But they must admit; they'd miss working with the badass toys. Then just as he reached the door frame, he stopped, and turned back. "Stefanie Patrick has to go."

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

Castle was distracted, that she can tell. Stefanie couldn't care less, but then again, she had to pretend. Not for long, though. Soon, and very, very soon, she'll finally get what she wanted. Justice for her mother, and a rebound heartbreak she owed to her sister. Poor June Summer killed herself after meeting a playboy in college. Sure, Castle probably couldn't remember the girl who followed him like a lost puppy. Stefanie didn't have to kill him. He just had to live with a gaping hole after she'd make him watch the woman he loved bleed in front of him, all the while, having to deal with the truth that the Stefanie Patrick he learned to love was all but a ploy. That's enough revenge for the life she lost.

They stopped at his door, and he fished for the keys in the pocket. "We should celebrate." He said flatly. He sure didn't mean to, but the moments leading to his departure from the hospital were constantly bugging him.

"Rest first?" her hands crept up the soft spot on his shoulder where he carried most his tension. "I ate at the precinct, and I'm just really tired, Rick."

He nodded in understanding. He hadn't eaten in a while, but it seemed like the day's stress was keeping him from being hungry. She took his hand as they went inside his loft, and one thing certainly didn't feel right. All he could think about was how tender, gentle, and right it felt when he held Kate. As if her hands were made for his to hold and never let go.

But maybe it was the week's mayhem that was getting into his head, so he let his feet drag him to the bedroom, where comfort await.

"So good to be back." Stefanie mumbled, releasing herself off of the heavy fabric of her trench coat. "I'll just take a shower."

Castle nodded, kicking his shoes to the floor.

"Are you coming, Rick?"

She teased, now wearing nothing but a filthy pair of underwear she'll soon get rid of. Under normal circumstances, the kid inside him would've been more than happy to join the pretty woman in the shower. But he lost the willpower resist Stefanie. He trudged to the direction of the showers, bracing himself for what's to come out of this. More guilt; more conflicting feelings, perhaps?

For him, this was going to be a way to get his mind off of Kate. To set his perspectives right again.

For Stefanie? One last time to wrap him around her little finger.

* * *

Do you hate Stefanie a little more? Yes, I do.

An awfully short chapter, I know.

School's been hell, and I have little to no time at all to be writing theories. But I hope you liked it! And oh, cheerios to the wonderful people who followed me on Twitter. It was nice talking (and fangirling) with you guys!

Let's fangirl moooore. CaminnaFerolin

:)


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: We're closing in on Chapter 20! J Can't believe the support and love this story had received. Thank you for bearing with me, and making me better in what I love doing. And I hope I didn't scare you off with my sucky update schedule.**

**Send in your reviews, please? I really want to know what you think. Suggestions are very, very welcome.**

**I hope you like this one! Good day to you lovelies. **

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

**CHAPTER XX**

_But I still wake up, I still see your ghost_

_Oh, Lord, I'm still not sure what I stand for_

**Some Nights, FUN**

She was there; yet all Castle could ever think about was Kate, and the twisted, unsolved case hanging over their shoulders. Nothing had changed. Stefanie Patrick was still a mystery person. But tonight, she acted like nothing had ever happened; like she was making him forget. But how could he? He had spent the last twenty four hours pacing, and worrying. His people almost died.

"I'm sorry…" he pulled away, just as Stefanie's arms were about to close in around him. She paused, coldly staring back at him. "I…I haven't slept in days."

"Are you not happy? I made it out alive. I'm here," She cried out, a few steps farther than she had initially been. When he didn't answer right away, she held on to his burning stare, "Rick?" Not for long. The fire inside him will soon be a cold, frozen, heap.

"No, of course I'm happy. I'm very, very happy, okay?" Castle was too tired to be explaining himself. So he retreated back to the bedroom, "But it isn't finished yet. Can we just talk about this when we're well rested?"

Castle left, shutting the door behind him. As inviting as the bed seemed, he didn't want to sleep there tonight. So he treaded to Alexis' bedroom on the upper floor, where it was untouched since his daughter's last visit. When was it? Weeks ago? Damn, he missed her. But Castle was glad she wasn't around to personally see his life spiral down into the big, black hole. Retreating to the soft pillows, the familiar smell of Alexis' perfume lingering on the fabric, he couldn't help but set the facts in his mind into perspective. There weren't a lot of things he knew, but one fact was for sure: Stefanie's past is still missing. Stefanie Patrick didn't exist until sometime the two of them met. If this were one of his novels, no way this would end well.

But how can he talk to her about it? Certainly not while she's all too stressed out with what she had just gone through. Not when right now, all she could rely on is him. But does she, really? With all that had happened, with all the possibilities dancing in his mind, was she really what he thought she was?

And that kiss. Damn, it was…

Like no other…

He still felt Kate's lingering kiss on his lips, her hot breath on his skin, her fingers running through his hair, and that soft, gentle caress on his back only Kate could ever give him. Castle closed his eyes, going back to that moment. If he could only turn back time and freeze to the moment where her green eyes held on to him, full of passion and longing, and love. He knew Kate all too well to know what she felt, and something inside him churned, because he wasn't there to give her what she wanted.

No, what they both wanted.

_"Don't you love me?" he pleaded, his knees still planted on the ground. _

_"Castle, don't do this. I love you. I love you like I've never loved anyone before," she knelt beside him, her palms cupping his face, forcing him into her eyes. "Rick, please…"_

_"Then don't leave." He said, firm, and final. A painful ultimatum that marked the end of them. "Don't leave. That's all I want. The only thing I want."_

_She found herself standing over him. "Are you…"_

_"I might as well be." Castle replied, getting to his feet. "You stay here, and we'll be together. We can be happy, Kate. We can be really, really happy. We'll get married. We'll start a family. We can be all that you wanted to be." He paused, emotions sucking the breath out of him. "We can dive into it together, and…" he took one step too close, he was inches away from her. "We'll continue to be amazing."_

_Kate pulled away. "…do you really want to start a life with this? Out of an ultimatum?"_

_"We can fix this. I know it. I love you. You love me. Isn't that enough?"_

_"I don't know anymore."_

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

She put on a pair of latex gloves, tied her hair, put on a dark blue bonnet, and slipped into a leather jacket with eagle embroidery. Stefanie fought the urge to shiver in the cold air of the breaking dawn, ever cautious as she made her way to the underground basement of an abandoned building that had been her true home. She jogged into the dark alley leading to the dingy basement, knowing every curve and slope; she could get there with her eyes closed. She had killed the CCTV cameras a long time ago. The closest streets were permanently closed, and the closest civilization a good three blocks away, making it invisible to prying eyes.

Stefanie descended in the short flight of steps, pulling the string to turn on the small light above her head. Then she keyed in her pass code on the home-made security device she fashioned, and the door bolts open, the lights automatically flooded the once dark room, giving light to the wall-sized cork boards with photographs of her victims were pinned, carefully arranged into logical organization. One that suit her.

"Say hello to mommy," she whispered to herself, as she walked towards the last board to the left, where a dozen surveillance photographs of Kate hang. Then an articulate floor plan to the left-most.

"Doing well, my girl."

Stefanie jumped, her hand instinctively clutching her gun on the holster. "Boss?" she relaxed a bit, the figure emerging from the dark getting more and more familiar. His cane tapped on the concrete, a cigar glowing in his mouth. "What are you doing here?"

His green eyes met hers, "Just wanted to check on my little girl. Heard about the news. They almost got to you, did they?"

Stefanie scoffed. "Those stupid cops doesn't suspect a thing."

"The detective has eluded death twice in one month, Claire. Are you no worried?" he rounded the corner desk, where her computer idled. Stefanie turned to him.

"Not even a bit. It won't be long till death finds her."

"What about your writer boy? What did you decide?"

"He's a boy," Stefanie chuckled, turning back to the floor plan on the wall. This is where Kate Beckett will meet her fate. One last kill to avenge her mother. One last kill to make Castle feel how her sister felt and he'd want to end his life for that, too. For once in her life, she'll have peace. "…he won't make it without the Detective. He's crazy about the woman."

"Ah, love." He smirked, "Love can make you do all sorts of sorts. It will bring your mother justice, too, Claire."

"Exactly." She returned a mischievous grin, hands on the telephone. Stefanie keyed in the familiar numbers, and held the device to her ear. "Game's over, boys. He's in the loft in Tribeca. You know what you do. Make sure you don't alert the neighbors."

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

Kate stood in front of the small window hung on the bathroom's wall, adjusting the long ribbon she meticulously tied around her waist. She didn't look like the usual cop that she was. Early this morning, she decided to take another day off of the hustle and the bustle of the precinct. Maybe she'd make a quick stop at the 12th to take a look on the new elements, ask for the day's leave from Gates, and then maybe she'd take the subway leading to nowhere. Maybe somewhere safe—if that place ever existed—but she needed to get away.

Five minutes more till the doctor signs the discharge paper. Her exams came in negative, and she felt better than brand new. Kate took a step closer to the tall, glass window, the streets already alive with cars, the sidewalks filled with time-deprived people to the brim. Others were idling by the light posts, others going in and out of the stores, and a number were pacing back, hailing cabs, and rushing to God knows where. And Kate thought they lived a normal life. In mediocrity. The old woman with a jumpy toddler clutching her right hand probably didn't have to worry about murders. The frown on her face was probably because the grocery ran out of her favorite pasta sauce, or the cats at home didn't have enough food left. Not murders. Not shoot-outs. Oh, she'd pay the world to worry about the pasta sauce. If only her life didn't center on keeping herself and the people she dearly loved safe.

"Kate?"

Escaping from her thoughts, she snapped to the direction of the door, where the voice echoed. "Tom?"

The Tom she saw by the doorway wasn't the Agent Krauss she remembered back in D.C. Not with his tight-fitted, blue V-necked shirt, jeans, and sneaker combo. Her eyes darted to where his gun holster was supposed to go: Not there. "You're not going to see me ever again after today." He fished something out of his pant pocket as he stepped closer and closer to Kate.

"What's that?"

"It's the key to the case."

Now he got her attention. He handed a piece of folded paper, which she immediately took hold of. "A key how? Why do you have this information?"

Tom sighed. "I've made some mistakes, Kate. Mistakes I can never undo. But I can help you. I can point you to the people who did this. I'm telling you that I _was_ one of them. And be careful with that piece of paper you're holding. It's everything."

"You already admitted to that crime. You were just an instrument to the killing."

"That's right." He said, now backing away to the door. "Best of luck, Kate. I can't do this. I have to disappear."

"You're not coming back to the FBI?" she asked, one last time, before he disappears. "You can still clear your name out of it."

Tom gave her a small smile. "Yeah I know. I just don't want to. And oh, by the way, don't let your people know about that or they'll know, and they'll be one step ahead of you."

Kate nodded slightly, before she looked down on the paper in between her fingers. As if on cue, the doctor came in with her papers, and Kate quickly got out of the facility as fast as her feet would take her. She needed to talk to her people. Didn't matter what Tom said. Kate needed to confide in Ryan and Esposito to crack whatever information was scribbled in the paper. With her patrol car still on the works, Kate hopped on to the first cab she saw and instructed the shortest directions for the precinct. The plans she had when she woke up are pushed back in the farthest box on her to-do list.

The street she chose had the lightest traffic in the city, fortunately. Kate reached the precinct in no more than a half hour, and immediately rushed to the doors, not minding the change the driver still owed her. At an early hour, the Homicide floor was still quiet. But the boys were there, busy with mountain loads of paper work on their desks. Esposito heard the shuffle of footsteps coming their way, and found Kate even before she had alerted them. "Already? You go home and sleep, Beckett."

"I appreciate the concern, guys. And I'll have you know I had plans. But not anymore," she lifted the paper in the air, still folded. "Now, listen. Tom gave this to me. He knows more than what he first told the NYPD and the FBI." She gave it to Esposito, whose hands quickly unfolded the contents. "It's the key to the case."

Ryan peeked over, then soon shared the same, smug look from Esposito. "These are a couple numbers. Could mean anything. And besides, are we trusting FBI dude now?"

Kate sighed. "We have no choice. This is the closest thing we have to a lead. We find out what those numbers represent, we crack this case wide open."

Kate called for all available hands to work on the numbers. Cross-checking could take a long while, even longer without the FBI's speedy technology. For the meantime, she buried herself on the old information scribbled in Esposito's handwriting on the murder boards. Maybe if she looked hard enough, something will surprise her. Unproductive, and meaningless, she moved to the files on her desk, starting with a folder labeled, 'Stefanie Patrick'. The identity still felt like one big bogus to her. Then it hit her. The other five identities linking to Jed Hudson were all fakes. No faces, just over-the-top mediocre identities. There's more than a seventy five percent chance that Stefanie Patrick was one of those accounts. She dug deeper into the files, and took hold of a clipped sheets of paper labeled 'Claire Summer', and the few others.

Kate scanned the content, taking down addresses and significant numbers.

"What are you up to?" Esposito hovered, curious at her sudden interest.

"Castle's going to hate me for this."

Kate looked up at Esposito, and showed him Stefanie's files on top of the fakes. Esposito caught the idea, "You're doing him a favor. Need a hand with those?"

Kate sighed, and nodded. She looked at her list, starting from the top-most. "A Crisela Vega lives in Upper East Side. One of the fakes bought a painting from her from eBay. We can ask if she ever made contact with the buyer."

He quickly got to his feet, and put on his coat. Long after they had alerted Ryan for their field work, they were soon navigating the heavy traffic, relying on the GPS monitor for a 'Vega Fashion' clothes store in the UES. "If Stefanie's the one…"

"It will break him," Esposito quickly replied, giving Kate an occasional sideways glance. "But it'll have to be for the best."

Soon they were in front of the luxurious clothes store. Someday she'll come back here and buy a pair for herself. They flashed their badges, which ensured their smooth entrance. They approached the cashier, where a couple make-up clad women stood, all smiles.

"NYPD; is Crisela Vega around?"

The first woman, tall, blonde, and well, hot, nodded. "Do you have an appointment? Miss Vega is in the middle of a meeting upstairs."

Esposito flashed his badge again.

"Oh, of course." the woman said, "Clemens, why don't you tell Miss Vega the cops are here." She directed to the younger girl, an equally tall brunette who shyly excused herself. "The robbers didn't leave a thing. Poor Miss Vega had to deal with the losses. Good thing she keeps most of her designs in her home office."

"We're not from robbery," Kate explained, and grabbed a photograph from her coat's side-pocket. Might as well show the skippy woman their business. "Do you know this woman?" she asked, handing over Stefanie's portrait.

"Whoa, this bitch. Of course I do. A Ruth Lister."

The detectives exchanged looks. "Look harder. Are you sure?"

"A hundred and one percent. She bought an Italian painting from Miss Vega, like months ago," she relayed, hand gestures and all. "But something was wrong with the delivery, so Miss Vega asked me to deliver the purchase myself. The woman was crazy mad. I figured she's this crazy city hermit who don't like seeing people." She trailed off, nodding one more time. "It's Ruth Lister. I'm very, very sure."

Kate's heart quickened. Stefanie Patrick is Ruth Lister. She only thought of Castle. If she was in some way involved with all that has happened, and if she really killed the lawyers and the cops…

There was no way Castle was safe.

"Castle." She mouthed, before the two of them fled the scene. Kate couldn't even remember thanking the woman.

"We have to get to Castle."

* * *

** CaminnaFerolin -Twitter**

**Because I need fangirl buddies. I'll follow you back. :)**


	21. Chapter 21

**CHAPTER 21**

_Funny how the heart can be deceiving_

_More than just a couple times_

_Why do we fall in love so easy_

_Even when it's not right_

**_Try, Pink_**

Locks of her hair flew out of places. Her feet ached from too much running and not enough time resting. The chilly air pricked at her eyes. And above all, her heart raced, faster like never before as she raced the length of the lobby to Castle's door, the other uniforms tagging close behind. She couldn't take the chances. It had been less than twenty four hours since Stefanie walked out of the NYPD precinct, and Kate couldn't afford thinking that she had been a little too late. She kicked the door open, and it stumbled before her, wood shattering on her wake. A sea of cops flooded in and out of each and every corner of the loft.

"Castle!" she called out, "Castle, where are you?!"—to no avail. It was eerily quiet, except for the steady shuffle of footsteps around the halls.

"Clear!" one cop announced after another, until they were all gathered in the living area, awaiting their next order.

Kate couldn't quite grasp it yet. But she had to be strong. She had to remain optimistic for Castle. For Alexis and Martha. _For herself_. Swallowing back feelings, she took a deep breath and cleared her throat. "Call in CSU and search the loft. Turn the place upside down and don't stop until you find something that could lead us to Castle or Stefanie Patrick." Her heels turned to the direction of the door, when her eyes caught something off a shelf on one side of the loft. It was a framed photograph of Castle and Alexis on her high school graduation, the girl's arms wrapped around her father's broad waist, and the proud dad grinning from ear to ear, beaming with pride. She couldn't help but think that on the same night, she let her walls down for him.

"Be _careful_, though."

She didn't waste any more of her valued time and hopped on to the Crown Victoria lent to her. She hit on the accelerator, a little too hard, and blended into traffic. Kate took the short cut to the precinct, a small road across a residential area, when she saw an over speeding sports car in the corner of her rearview mirror. It was Castle's red Ferrari quickly fading onto the other side of the street. There could be a hundred red Ferraris on the island of Manhattan, but she knew. It was his.

Kate made a bad detour and followed the vehicle, and reached for the radio, only to find that the freak device wasn't working at all. Grunting and smashing it back to its port, she reached for her phone, and cursed herself at the sudden realization that it wasn't in sight. There was only her, and her gun. _Gun is enough._

She sped up, but Ferraris always beat Crown Victorias, especially because the one she was driving wasn't exactly the latest model. Kate reached for the siren next, and it wasn't there. "What the hell?!" She grunted once more, and tensed on her seat.

No back up. No siren. No nothing.

Following the car and her instincts, she realized she had reached a less-crowded area in the city. There were more abandoned houses than occupied ones, and up ahead was a tall, abandoned building where the Castle's car turned. Kate reduced her speed, and stopped the car on the entrance gate—tall, rustic roofs fashioned into a makeshift entrance.

_Nice and slow, Kate. Nice and slow._

She repeatedly told herself as she took a good hold of her guns, two tucked on her holster, and an extra slipped into her ankle. She took a sharp breath as she went outside the car, swiftly navigating, cautiously striding towards the building. Castle's car was nowhere to be seen at this point.

Kate sighed in relief as she reached the concrete floor on one piece. But that relief was short-lived when she heard the click of a gun's hammer close to her ear.

"Drop your weapon."

Kate froze. She knew this voice all too well. And for the person who had so much to lose, Kate couldn't turn away from this fight. "Stefanie…"

"I said." Stefanie shot back, her voice firm. "Drop. Your. Weapon."

Kate held right to her gun, the wound on her arm throbbing from the muscle contraction. With a swift movement, she lifted her elbow and hit Stefanie on the abdomen, causing the other woman to fall out of balance. Stefanie's gun fell to the ground, and Kate was quick to shove it far from her reach. "Where is he?!"—she demanded, pointing the gun to Stefanie.

Stefanie gave a small smirk, relaxing as a subordinate closed in on Kate without so much as a sound. "Tsk, tsk, tsk…bad move, Detective."

Before Kate saw it coming, she blacked out on herself when something hard hit the back of her skull. The pain didn't even have the time to register when she felt her whole body fall to the cold concrete, before her consciousness completely faded away.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

"Kate. Kate?" He whispered, low as it was deemed possible, slightly shaking Kate who still lay unconscious on the floor, her feet bound together, and her hands cuffed from behind. He was in a less uncomfortable situation, with one hand cuffed to some kind of pipe. He leaned close, occasionally grunting because the cuffs limited his movements.

Two awfully large men brought her to the cell in this situation. Deadly still. It's been five minutes of trying to wake her up, and Castle began to worry.

"Kate, wake up." He pulled her close with one usable arm, and lay her head on his lap. "Kate," Castle tapped her cheeks, softly, and slowly catching intensity with each failed attempt in bringing her back. He instinctively ran two fingers on her pulse, relieved at the steady throb of her artery against his skin.

"Kate, please…"

She grunted. Kate's senses were coming back to life. She felt the restricted movements on her lower extremities, the searing pain of her GSW, and the numbing feeling of her hands bound behind her back. Above all, there was a newfound pain on the back of her head. She wondered why her head was elevated than the rest of her body. Then a hand ran its course on her cheeks, then to her shoulder; the touch calming, and soothing, and like no…_Castle!_

"C-Castle…?" she slowly opened her eyes, slowly adjusting her rods and cones to the dim lighting of the small room. "Where…"

"There you are. Wake up." He said, now helping her to sit with her back against the wall. "How did you find me?"

"I followed your car. And there was…" _Stefanie_. Does he already know? "Castle, do you have any idea who did this?"

Castle shook his head. "These armed men came to the loft and took me here. They are working for someone." He said, and then traced his gaze on the bleeding coming from the back of her head. "Are you alright?" He lifted his fingers to the contusion, "…did you recognize who did this to you?"

"It's nothing." Kate swallowed a big lump in her throat. But she had to tell him. He deserved to know. Especially now that his life is in apparent danger. "It's Stefanie, Castle."

Castle's heart sank to the ground. He might have expected it all along—with the facts lying around, and his innate talent for theories—but _"love"_ kept him from seeing all that. His emotions stopped him from looking at things on the bigger perspective. He saw what he wanted to see: Stefanie's a _victim_; she couldn't be the suspect. But coming out of Kate made it more real. A sense of finality washed over him, as the last few months of his 'happy' life melted away in a cloud of lies over his head.

_She did this. _

_She played me. _

_And now, she wants to kill me? And Kate?_

"I'm sorry, Castle. I know how much you cared for her." Kate said, wanting so much to engulf him in her arms. But technically, she couldn't.

"I guess I'm sorry, too."—he whispered into thin air.

He gave her a small glance and a nod. Castle swallowed the last bit of pain possible for the moment, "What did you find out?"—he asked, soft and uncertain. But he had to know. He deserved to know the reason behind all this.

"That she's not Stefanie Patrick. As far as I know she was a Ruth Lister, and four other women. I didn't get the chance to know more because that's when I followed your car. Then, this." She nodded to the whole of her, her wrists burning from the friction of the metal against her skin.

Castle extended his good arm to Kate, and pulled her close, so she was a good arm's reach. He fiddled at the rope on Kate's feet, hoping to unlatch it with one hand.

"That isn't even a tough rope. I think you can bite it off."

"You're right," he agreed, and slouched down to tear off shreds of the rope, until it was reduced to a thin thread, weak enough for Kate to kick off. "Why would someone use a rope that easy?"

"I don't know." She set her legs apart, relieved from the ability to regain her movements. "I don't know why she's doing this to both of us."

Castle gave her a sideways glance, "I wish I knew."

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

_One. Two. Three. Deep breath. Kick!_ "Damn it."—Kate grunted.

Okay, you'll kick it down this time. _One, two, three…Kick!_

"Kate…" he called out, his voice depicting hope, long gone in a spiral of madness. "…there's no way out. You'll only hurt yourself."

Kate kept her back on him, reasserting dominance, not to him, but to the whole situation in general. She wasn't supposed to be losing. She wasn't supposed to be feeling claustrophobic; drowning in the airless duct with her emotions and feelings for Castle all over the place. Above all, she still couldn't believe she was abducted. Outsmarted, and locked away to nowhere. Does Esposito and Ryan even realized she was gone? Are they even looking?

It's been a while since she woke up. It's been forty unsuccessful attempts at taking down the steel door before her. She stood straight, preparing for the 41st try.

"Kate, there's no way out."

For once and for all, she gave in to what he had to say. She returned to his side, wishing she could put a hand over her bad arm. Without the painkillers, the pain had skyrocketed from dull to almost unbearable.

"See? You hurt yourself." He pointed out, "Just…_come here_." He flung his arm around her, his hand slightly caressing the bondage wrapped around her wound, his touch soothing the pain in some way. "We'll survive this. I don't know how, but I know we will."

Kate gave in to his embrace, cherishing the moment, no matter the current circumstances. "The odds are pretty slim this time, Castle."

"Well, did you think we had a chance against that tiger?" he joked, his breath hot against the nape of her neck.

Kate chuckled. "Touché,"

They shared a brief laugh, taking their minds off of their situation for a second. They were in a small room, with nothing and no one but each other. After her frail attempt at escape, it was clear all they had to do was wait for their cards to play out, hoping their luck didn't run out just yet. Huddled close to each other, their thoughts couldn't help but wander into the unscathed territory. Especially that kiss, and what it meant for the other.

"If I hadn't left for that job in D.C., do you think we'd still be together?"

No point in not talking about it right now. She didn't dare look at him. Kate knew, and feared she might drown in his big, blue eyes like she always had in the past. Instead she stayed still, with his hand still on her shoulder, his caresses reduced to soft, lingering strokes.

"I think we'd be married by now." He replied, straightforward as an arrow shot by Merida. There wasn't a hint of hesitation in his voice; only an honest truth. His grip around her went only tighter.

"I bought the ring on Valentine's Day. I could have proposed by then but…" he broke his contact on her arm, and his hand gently traced her jawline, tilting her head towards him. "…I didn't think you were ready. I could have saved both of us that bitter proposal, you know."

Kate didn't smile. She didn't move a muscle. She just looked on, hoping to the heavens above he'll tell her his side of the story.

"So I chose to give you the earrings instead, and saved the ring for later. For when you're really ready. I never could have guessed that you were getting bored."

"Castle…" she protested.

"Okay, not bored. But we were dragging our relationship. We knew it, but we didn't talk about it. We imploded because we didn't talk enough. You had no idea how committed I was, and I had no idea that you were ready to move forward."

Kate nodded, and rested her head on his chest.

"So, yes. If things had only gone our way, I think we'd be married by now." he whispered into her ear, sending a cold shrill up her spine. Then it became all too unbearable, and she wasn't referring to the throb of her arm. A rogue tear slid down her cheek, and thank goodness he wasn't facing her to see it.

Having heard all that, she mentally slapped and kicked herself for changing the course of the game all those time ago. Their game.

Mr. and Mrs. Richard Castle?

Oh, how good that could have been.

* * *

**A/N**: Yo! Are you still there? I hope so. :)

I am terribly sorry for the long delay. It's been really crazy at school.

I can't promise regular updates, but I promise I'll try and give you quality reads each time I do.

Send in your opinions/reflections/suggestions. I would really, really, really like to know what you think. You can write on the little box below, or tweet me at ** CaminnaFerolin**


	22. Chapter 22

**CHAPTER 22**

_High dive into frozen waves where the past comes back to life_

_Fight fear for the selfish pain it was worth it every time_

_Hold still right before we crash, 'cause we both know how this ends_

_A clock ticks 'till it breaks your glass and I drown in you again_

**Clarity, ZEDD**

Maybe it was the starvation, or the growing claustrophobia, but the temperature had dropped several notches, making their hearts beat a lot faster than deemed possible.

The wait was excruciating.

Not knowing what was going on outside the steel door was maddening beyond belief.

It had been quite some time now; no Ryan or Esposito busting through the door to their rescue yet. Sure, the tracker on the patrol car could be very well broken, too. Everything in that car seemed to have gone out of standards. NYPD never does that; which led Kate to think that she was where she was supposed to be. She felt that her hours were numbered. If Stefanie wanted her dead, then in a matter of time, _she will be_.

Castle's head rested on her shoulder. It had been days since he last slept soundly, and this was the closest thing to a good night's sleep; a Nano nap on the shoulder. If she closed her eyes hard enough, her imagination brought them back to his loft, legs crossed on the couch, hands clutching a bowl of popcorn as Castle dozes off on her shoulder through another chic flick, his scent all over her nostrils; that distinct Castle scent she had learned to love.

The steel door opens in a start, swinging open and landing on the wall with a loud, deafening bang.

Castle jolts awake, forgetting for a split second his whereabouts. Then his eyes focuses on the woman before him; Stefanie. It all flashed back, and raced around his mind until his head hurt. He looked over his shoulder, relieved to see Kate, no matter the circumstance.

"Aw, I hate to interrupt the love birds." Stefanie barged in, two steroid-laden men behind her back. The same men that brought Kate in. The door closed behind them as she dragged a steel stool, and placed it in the middle of the room, her other hand clutching a .38 caliber. One guy had a cramped up duffel hung around one shoulder, a death grip on its loose strap.

"Stefanie, why are you doing this?" Castle asked, and tried to free himself from the cuff all at once. "Why?!"

Stefanie only smirked, and nodded to both men. On cue, the subordinates grabbed Kate by the arm, and she was powerless against them as they pinned her down on the stool, hands quick to tie her limbs around the seat with a rough rope. "If this has anything to do with me being a cop, don't let Castle in on this."

"Sorry to disappoint you, princess." Stefanie took a step closer to Kate, a finger resting on the trigger. "…but I'm not gonna do that. Not right now, anyway. I mean, not until I make him watch you die a slow, and painful death. Right here. Right now." She lifted her wrist and cocked the gun to Kate's head.

"Please!" Castle cried out, "Stefanie, please! Don't!"

Kate held her breath, tears freely streaming down her cheeks, no matter how she struggled to keep a firm and brave front. She made a mental note to visit Dr. Burke very soon, if she'd ever survive this ordeal. "Killing a cop is a messy, messy situation." she whispered, not quite sure what she was hoping for.

Mercy? This woman had killed five people.

What Kate and Castle needed was a miracle.

"Please, I know messy better than you do, Detective." Stefanie didn't bulge, the barrel hitting Kate's skull. "Last words?"

Castle reached out for as far as he could, reaching only the hem of Stefanie's jeans. "Stefanie!"

Stefanie freed herself off of the contact, and lowered the gun to her side.

_Anytime now, boys. Anytime now_—Kate repeatedly consoled herself, inhaling and exhaling deeply, as if she had just topped off a 20-kilometer run. She had to believe her people were coming to get them.

"Let's cut to the chase." Said Stefanie, looking over her shoulder and snapping her fingers to one of the men. "Tucker here, is a professional hacker. Worked a lot of hacking jobs for moguls and syndicates. And a childhood _buddy_." She recited, as "Tucker" emptied the duffel bag, gently and systematically—laptop, then two other blinking monitors showing real-time coverage of the 12th precinct, then lastly, a small device he handed to Stefanie—until it all made sense.

"Don't." Kate muttered, feeling the world closing in on her as she prophesied a small part of the big picture Stefanie had been painting. How someone could have hacked the high security facilities of the precinct was beyond belief. But planting a bomb in the building? There had to be a mole in their midst. A very, very experienced mole.

_Tom. The one who gave her the lead; the lead that started all this. It had to be him_—Kate synthesized, plunging towards conclusions she wouldn't normally take. "Agent Krauss. Is he involved?!"

"Oh, I won't say. And I wouldn't count on it." Stefanie countered, walking towards Castle, "Okay, so the place is bugged It's a ticking bomb as of right now, really. See, I got some help in exchange of well, that's my business." She playfully winked to Castle's direction, "Anyway. There are two bombs in the homicide floor, strong enough to blow up everything…and everyone. All this little ticking thing in my hand is the boss."

"This is not how you get justice, Stefanie." Kate shouted, losing all sorts of control. "Whatever it is the police force had caused you. This is not the answer."

"Well, it's in Writer Boy's hands." Stefanie smirked, cold and unfeeling, as she nudged the gun to his hand. "The original plan was: I shoot you…" she pointed at Kate, "…in front of him then let him live with that misery. But then, I realized, why not have him shoot you instead?"

Castle melted, as if life had left him. His heart skipped a beat at the realization of Stefanie's sick motives, his chest tightening as he met Kate's eyes from across the room, hopeless and uncertain, and all other things he didn't normally see in her.

"No," he mouthed, shaking his head. "No."—louder this time, holding on to Kate's eyes and searching for answers that he knew won't be there.

She knelt down, eye to eye with the man she deceived. Oh how her green eyes spoke of sweet revenge.

"It's simple. You shoot her, and I deactivate the explosive. You save her life, and the precinct gets it."

* * *

"Wait, where's Kate?"—asked Ryan, preoccupied the folders in between his arm and waist, noticing the absence of the lady boss on her desk. It had been early this morning when he last saw her, and it was three hours past noon, and still, she hadn't come back.

He stopped in his tracks, craning his neck to the direction of the conference room—nothing. Esposito looked up at him from his screen, "Wait, I thought she was with you at the scene?"

"NO," Ryan replied in a haste, his voice hinting at the situation. "She wasn't here all day? She left a little after you did. I thought she…"

"Damn it."—the other detective sprang from his seat and perched over his desk, one hand making a deathly grip on the telephone. "She's not answering. Phone's dead."

"How did we miss this?" Ryan rushed to his desk, not sure of what to do; but still in dire need to be moving. It certainly felt like the room was closing in. It was a cop's nature to feel accountable for another cop. But it was different. Kate and Javi were more than just another cops. They were, in their own dysfunctional way, each other's extended _immediate family_. "I'm pulling records of CCTV around the Tribeca area."

"Trying to trace Leandro's patrol car." Esposito said, and grabbed the next uniform to his command. "Detective Beckett's been compromised. All hands not working on tracking Castle down will work on this."

Detective Leandro, a young and a fresh graduate, nodded obediently to his superior, his eyes focusing on the screen before them. "Sir, I am sorry, but my patrol car isn't on duty. It's been taken down to maintenance yesterday."

"What? How come Detective Beckett was notified to use your patrol?"—Ryan asked, half-mindedly snapping his fingers on the keyboard, and accessing records. One look at his partner, and they already knew the answer.

If what they had in mind were in fact true, Kate was in real danger.

Little did they know of the danger they were in.

* * *

"And if he shoots me," Kate gulped, "They'll be safe?"

"Of course!" Stefanie gleefully replied, "If there's one thing you know about me, it's that I'm a man of honor, Detective. Castle knows that." She glanced at Castle, shaky, and all kinds of conflicted, "Right, Rick?"

He huffed out a sharp breath, breaking under the tribulation. The two gunmen had moved to his side, their guns pointing at his head, in case he decided to get funny.

"Please, Stefanie. I'll do anything. Anything. Don't make me do this." Castle begged. "Is it money? I'll give you everything."

Stefanie cackled. "Money? Oh Ricky. By now you should have already known that money doesn't solve anything. It worsens everything. I play the game, Castle. I give the rules. You follow it—or I kill your girl here, then I blow up your friends. Then I let you live with that burden." She walked over to Kate's side, her fingers fiddling with the loose strands of Kate's golden brown hair. "Or, you can pull the trigger. Then I turn the device off. And you live. _Without her_."

Castle blinked away tears. "…I can't do it."

"Okay, then…" Her finger made its way to the red button.

"Wait!" Kate cried out, effectively stopping Stefanie in the detonation. "Wait. Don't."—she looked at Castle on the other side of the room—"Castle. It's okay."

"No, Kate! It's not okay!" he protested, his hands shaking. "I won't…"

"You will." Kate replied, sternly. "You will pull the trigger because you will save them. You'll do this for them." Kate looked straight into his eyes, raging with storms of unspoken emotions. She held on to his eyes, searching his very soul, and held on a little longer. To die in his eyes was the closest thing to an ideal way to go.

"Kate," he sighed, losing grip on the gun. "_I can't live without you_."

Kate shook her head, "Listen to me. You've done it before, and you'll do it again. _You'll be alright_. You get to be a hero—for them. It's okay. It's okay to pull the trigger." She said, whispering the words to keep her voice from cracking. "It's okay."

Castle made a tight grip on the gun, losing his balance as he pointed the barrel to Kate's skull. Shaky and unwilling, and all other things he never thought he'd feel in his lifetime. Up until these very moments, he still didn't get to solve the mystery of Kate Beckett—the depths of her soul, her heart for sacrificing herself. And as he looked into her green eyes, he held his breath, taking in her wholeness, looking into the times when they were not in the small room, tied to some pipe.

One last look at the beauty that was Katherine Beckett as he mumbled. "I'm sorry, Kate. I'm so…so sorry."

Kate smiled, wholeheartedly, and equally painful. "I love you."

* * *

**A/N: **Hi! Do I still have any readers left? I hope so!

I know I've been making terrible update schedules. Blame that on my Prelim Exams (which I flunked, kinda) and my hectic schedule. I really wish I had more time to write chapters.

But I'm not giving up on this. As long as you're still there, then I will continue writing. So let me know if you're still on track! :)

**REVIEW**. Please? Pretty please?

P.S. Don't kill me for the cliffhanger?


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: I just want to say: Thank You. **

The amazing response this story is getting is just overwhelming. Heartwarming. Inspiring. And all the pretty adjectives you can come up with. Just thank you!

And because I was beyond inspired to write more, here goes another chapter. I hope it gets just as much love as the previous updates. Thank you for your continued support. :)

P.S. The song below might now fully fit this chapter. Only the chosen line.

* * *

_I'm terrified of the dark, but not if you go with me_  
_And I don't need a pill to make me numb_  
_And I wrote the book on runnin',_  
_But that chapter of my life will soon be done_

**The Great Escape, P!NK**

**CHAPTER 23**

The two-hour interval between finding out that Kate was missing and the present felt like a year's drag of events, pushing him to his limits at a time when he needed to stay whole and firm. He glanced at the barely filled murder board from the Jed Hudson case, eyes shifting from one crime scene photo to another, until he had scanned all of the suspect's six victims, his stomach clenching at the very thought that by the end of all this, there could be a seventh. And an eighth. And it could be two of theirs.

Ryan shook his head, refusing to believe the conclusions running around his mind.

_No. We'll win this. We always have. _

Tapping his pen, he looked back to the screen, searching clues they probably missed, holding on to that puzzle piece that would make it all sensible. _Nothing_.

"We have a hit on the patrol car." Esposito said, gearing towards Ryan. "Traffic cameras spotted it entering shady parts of the city, following Castle's Porsche."

Ryan looked up, dropping his pen to the mahogany desk. "Why is my gut telling me Stefanie's behind all this? We should have never stopped digging on her…"

"I hear you." Esposito cut him midsentence, his brows furrowed. "Satellites tracked Stefanie Patrick's phone to a cellular tower fifteen blocks down Castle's loft." Then he went over to the multimedia room, browsing through the locations he had searched a little earlier. "It would have to be abandoned. Why the woman left her phone on track is a mystery."

"This place is full of that."—Ryan conceded, caressing the mild ache on his eyebrow. "Houses. Stores. She probably didn't anticipate the police finding out about this. We're looking for a place that's…"

"Secluded." Esposito complied, "This."—he switched to street view, zooming until they made out a structure out of the adjusting pixels. "It's an abandoned company building. Been that way since twenty-oh seven. It's huge. It has a two hectare basement."

They exchanged a knowing look before rushing to the bullpen, effectively catching all of their colleague's attention. With a few other detectives in line, they rushed into their patrol cars, heading for the one location they weren't even sure of. It wasn't like them to speculate. But come hell or high waters, if speculation would save life or two, then it'd be their resort.

* * *

His hand wouldn't stop shaking. His finger was barely touching the trigger, fearing the moment that he might actually pull it. Deep, deep down—he just couldn't. He can never live long enough if he pulled the damn thing. For all accounts, putting a bullet inside his mouth was a hundred notches easier than this.

Then he heard the very words that made him weak to his knees.

_"I love you."_ Kate said, for what it seemed like the very last time, her eyes fixed on his. And he just couldn't do it. He had to think. _Harder._ He had to get away. _They had to get away._ His neurons fired impulses a thousand times faster than average, digging for an escape in this situation.

And with what little courage he had left, he mouthed back the words, "I love you. _Always_."

It could have been one of their most sentimental, and emotional moments. Looking back, he realized this was only the second time they'd uttered the words to each other. Oh how he wished it didn't have to be just another life-and-death, I-might-not-see-you-again kind of situations. He wished they didn't have to keep ending up like this. And it could have been a moment that could change their course of history, if it wasn't for the fact that he was holding a gun, pointing the barrel to the woman he truly loved, torn between her life, and the lives of many others.

"Aw, this is kind of sad, isn't it?" Stefanie mocked, assuming a serene stunt.

"I should at least know why you're making me do this." He cleared his throat, and didn't bulge, his gun still pointed at Kate. "Why, Stefanie?"

"Tabitha Draughty is my mother." Stefanie claimed, her voice hoarse and tainted with long years of lust for vengeance. "She didn't commit those crimes. Yet the Detectives who thought she did it, put her to prison. My life's been hell. You have no idea what I had to go through without a mother. She wasn't supposed to be there!"

"Evidence points to Tabitha Draughty, Stefanie…" Kate intervened, only to earn a raging comeback from the other woman.

Stefanie lifted her gun, and slapped it across Kate's cheek, a cut searing through her skin. "Shut up! It's not Stefanie Patrick. It's Claire Summer." Then she looked at Castle, "If it wasn't for the fact that my sister killed herself after a cocky college boy broke her heart, you wouldn't be in here, Castle."

"Wha—"Castle flinched, bile rising to his throat at the revelation. "June. June Summer? I didn't…"

"Oh yes, you did." Stefanie walked closer, tears brimming in her eyes. "Surprised? Well. Karma's a bitch, Richard. And it's coming to get you." She wiped away the stream on her cheek, and nudged his arm. "Now, shoot."

Castle swallowed, his eyes now on the small device on Stefanie's hand. "I can't."—he hesitated. "I can't do it."

"Castle."—Kate called out, relief surging through her veins. No matter how hard she tried to convince Castle that it was all going to be okay, deep down inside, she knew it wasn't. Yet torn between her own life and the many others, she called his attention again. Because a long time ago, she vowed to protect her people. She wasn't going to break that now.

"No, Kate. I can't." Castle lowered the gun to his side, pain thwarting on his features. "I won't."

Stefanie inched backward, "Then say goodbye to your friends."

It had been a spur-of-the-moment decisions when Castle lifted his gun, and pulled the trigger. But the bullet didn't end up inside Kate's skull. Instead, it blew the flesh out of Stefanie's hand, and the device dropped to the concrete, a bullet hole on the plastic, leaving it useless and futile on the cold floor, spattered with blood, torn flesh. In the back of his mind, he heard Stefanie cry of agony. But there were more important things to focus now—two huge men on the hunt for his head.

Kate struggled in the stool, kicking off the ropes that pinned her down. It was a hopeless try. But she had to help Castle. He put himself in the line of fire when he decided to take the other route. _For her_. He never broke his promise of _'Always'_. Maybe he had gone away from that when he dated the very woman who planned this all out, but that didn't matter anymore.

What mattered is that they now had a chance to get away.

_One shot_. One man down.

Stefanie was quickly regaining composurem despite the gunshot to her blown hand. Kate tried not to hurl at the sight, and focused on the situation that was turning to a more fatal end. The other woman picked up her gun from the floor, and pointed it to the gap between her eyes.

Castle didn't know how, but somehow, in between a bullet to the first man's skull and a blow to the head for the other, he had knocked down the men who were twice his size and build.

"Castle!" Beckett cried out. No sense in keeping a brave front now.

It was too close.

A little too late.

_A shot fires—_he froze.

* * *

Castle buried his head in his hands, knees to his chin, shivering to his very core, and unstable in all aspects of his narrowing perspective of life. He didn't dare look at the aftermath of it all. He didn't dare flinch as he looked around the room, as the sudden realization hit him that he was surrounded by two dead bodies. He looked down at his blood-soaked hands, as the moments leading to his isolation played in his mind, over and over again, like a broken record he just couldn't seem to put away.

The sirens buzzing around the blocks didn't take his mind off of the trauma. He could still feel the cessation of her heart beat. He still felt the warmth of her last breath lingering on his skin. He still remembered those green eyes; slowly, painfully fading away into nothing.

Footsteps shuffled from behind him.

"Castle…"

"Not now, Ryan."—he shot back, shutting out the world that awaited him. "Not now."

"It wasn't your fault." Ryan took one step forward, then sat on the ground with his friend. When the distraught Castle didn't reply, he repeated, "It wasn't your fault, Castle."

"It's my fault."—Castle replied, this time a little softer. The more he thought of it, the more it ate him; eating at his fragile pieces, raging through his towering heights of self-esteem and confidence, until he felt like a sorry mess of guilt. _"It's my fault."_

* * *

I hope you liked it, and that it wasn't all too anti-climactic.

Sorry for the cliffhanger, though. Just. Had. To.

Update in a short while! I can't promise speedy updates. But I promise quality updates. :)

Thank you for wishing me luck on my exams. Update though, I officially flunked one exam. But aced two other. So, yeah, I think I'll be fine.


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: **Hey you. Thank you for sticking with me on this learning process. And we've made it to Chapter 24! Yay to that!

This chapter will be second to the last. And I've already been planning on a sequel. Details will be on the next chapter. I'd really like your help :)

I hope you like this one. Worked really hard on it, so...

Let me know what you think? If anyone's still reading this? :)

** CaminnaFerolin : Twitter**

* * *

**CHAPTER 24**

Kate felt the hard barrel, pressed tightly onto her skull.

She still remembered that millisecond of a moment when her life played before her eyes. It was a 'dying' cliché she had the opportunity to experience too many times. She took a deep breath, bracing for the inevitable—and the shot rang.

Then she took another easy breath.

And another.

Kate felt her heart beat wildly against her chest, followed by the dull ache of the every fiber in her body. She opened her eyes—yes, she was definitely alive. But if she was alright, then…

_Castle._

She instinctively searched for him in the small room, finding him exactly where he had last been; frozen in place, his gun still hanging on the air. His eyes dark, and blank, and _something else_. Kate drew a sharp breath, and shifted her eyes to the direction of his gaze, and found the answer to her question.

Stefanie lay lifeless on the floor, in a puddle of her own blood; a bullet buried deep on her forehead. It was a perfect headshot that killed her instantly.

It took a longer time for Castle to regain his composure. If it hadn't for Kate calling his attention, he'd have stood there forever. In a pool of guilt with his bloodied hands. He shifted, so he was facing Kate. _Pocket knife._ He staggered onto the floor, and picked the knife that was used by one of the men that was meant to kill him.

"Kate," Castle rushed to Kate, his arms quick to wrap themselves around her small frame. She nuzzled her head against his neck, inhaling the sour trickle of sweat, and long hours of turmoil on his skin. She needed him. Right now. _This_. It was finally over. _Please, let it be over_. He pulled away, and looked at her reassuringly as he cut through the rope with the sharp pocket knife. "It's going to be okay."

Free from the bounds of the rope, she returned his embrace, and he kissed the top of her head. His own little way of saying: _It's okay. We'll be okay._

For Castle, it was a short-lived relief. A momentary escape from reality.

"You're okay."—he blew out a heavy breath, his arms still tightly wrapped around Kate protectively, his eyed clenched shut, blocking out the world of his senses. The gut-clenching smell of blood filled his nostrils, and he fought the urge to throw his insides out as reality began to sink in. He killed Stefanie. _Oh, god. Dear god_—he cried inwardly, holding on to Kate tighter for dear life.

* * *

"It's time to go." Ryan sighed, tapping Castle on the shoulder. "You can't stay here. Besides, you need to get yourself checked."

Castle nodded without putting up a fight. The weight of these past days finally had its final toll on him, and all of the sudden he felt the strong urge to lie on his back, and roll on his sheets. Maybe that'd make him forget.

Halfway through the short walk, he saw Kate in the crowd, leaning against the wall of an opened ambulance back door, submissively letting the paramedic tend to her gunshot; flinching, and jaws tightening with each poke. Another paramedic tended to the fresh cut across her cheek.

"Easy."—he mumbled, catching her attention; her eyes lighting up in his presence. "You're doing fine?"

"I'll live." Kate replied, almost instantaneously. "—thank you. For having my…"

"Listen, I'll uh…" he hesitated, his eyes shifting to the distance. "I'll see you…_around_." Castle looked away, and headed to the outgoing patrol cars. No, he couldn't talk about it. It was way too soon. He did the right thing by calling the shots. He saved Kate. Who was he kidding? There was no way in hell and beyond he was going to let harm befall Kate Beckett. But one thing was for certain, too. He killed Stefanie Patrick. He could use a little bit of time, and a little bit of space to get used to that.

Just when he thought he had gone far, Kate's hand clasped onto his bicep, halting him in his tracks. "…Castle, wait."

He sighed. _He needed her_. "…Kate, I…" but he also needed to sort things out for himself. Damn, if only he could just hold her. If he could only celebrate with her for another closed call escape on death. If only that was easy.

"Hey, look at me." Kate's fingers made its way to his chin, lightly tilting his head towards her direction. "If you need anything, just…" she trailed off, realizing the depths of his current state of mind. "…just call me. I'll be there."

Castle smiled, almost reaching his eyes.

"In a heartbeat."—she added, her other hand squeezing his arm lightly.

Heartbeat. That was all it took for him to end Stefanie's life. It was one, brief moment when Stefanie held the .38 calibre, pressed onto Kate's skull. The next thing he knew, Stefanie dropped dead on the ground. He didn't think it was possible, but he had always believed in the adrenaline rush concept of one's actions. Castle felt the guilt eat away at him. He exhaled, shoving the repeating scenarios in his head, over and over again.

"Thank you. Listen, I don't want you to think that I'm shutting you out. _I'm not_. Maybe I just need a little time to…"

Kate finished his sentence by closing the distance between them. It was all that she needed to do to let him know: _She was his_. And she won't ever run again. It spoke of bliss, of unspoken words, of uncertain futures. One thing was for sure, and they both know it. Their hearts yearned for the other, their minds told them to get their act together, but they both knew it was going to take more than just making amends. But for now, the long, heated kiss was enough.

Castle pulled away, his palms cupping Kate's face in his hands.

Kate sighed, "Take as much time as you need." Tears welled up in her eyes the moment the words left her lips. She'd been there. _Too many times_. And she knew all too well, he might not come back from this.

* * *

He took a good old lifetime staring at his reflection on the mirror. Castle didn' recognize the man he saw staring back at him. It took another lifetime to stop himself from picking the razor and just get it over with. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get his mind off of everything that had just transpired. He just had to remind of himself there was still life outside his bathroom door.

Castle remembered a dark-haired, shy Anthropology major in college named June Summer. He remembered placing a bet with his no-good buddies. The first to get the girl, gets the Mustang. He shook his head, and buried his face on his palm. When young June Summer disappeared, word was she migrated to some relic-rich island. Little did they know she took her own life. Because of him.

" .Fault." he whispered to himself, and took one last look on the mirror before returning to his quiet bedroom, giving in to the comforts of his bed. He heard the door open, then came footsteps; light clicks on the floorboard.

"Are you ever going to be safe?" Alexis hovered, her red hair tousled in a bad attempt at a ponytail. Castle didn't like it when her daughter had to worry about him. It made him feel like a failure at parenting. "Dad?!"—nope, this girl won't back down until he quacks. "I rushed to the precinct the moment Detective Ryan called to report the incident. Twelve hours, dad. Twelve, _excruciating_ hours."

"I'm sorry, sweetie." He mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to relieve some pressure off of himself. "I uh…I'm sorry. So sorry." Castle got to his feet, and wrapped his arms around his daughter. He needed to hold someone. He needed somebody else to anchor him on the ground.

Alexis softened. She never liked it when her father gets in the way of cop business. If she could only stop him from putting himself in danger, and just be a normal dad. If he could just hire a researcher to do the dangers for him. But she also saw how much he had changed since he put himself out there.

He was happy. The job made him happy, and most of all, _Kate_ made him happy. "I just don't want you harmed."

She backed away, and Castle sat back down on the edge of his bed.

"A girl killed herself because I broke up with her." He let it slip right through his defences. He swallowed hard, and craved for something sweet to cover the bitterness of his words. "…I killed Stefanie."

"…I did it to save Kate. I-I couldn't let her kill Kate. Kate's…"

"I know." She affirmed. "Dad, it wasn't your fault."

"It was my finger that pulled the trigger, Alexis. I could have just immobilized her. But I…"

"You acted out on instinct." Alexis took a seat beside him, and looked into Castle's pair of blue eyes. "It's not your fault, dad. You have to start telling yourself that." She paused, catching for breath and holding back tears. "Can you do that?"

Castle gulped. No. He couldn't afford not blaming himself for anything; not when the memory was still fresh on his mind, eating away at him until all that was left was the infallible guilt. But he also couldn't take watching his daughter like this. Alexis should be out in parties, or going out with friends, or acing classes, not skipping them to babysit her father.

So he cleared his throat, "I think I'll try."


End file.
